


Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken

by CorgiGal



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anger, Denial, F/M, Kidnapping, Love, Lust, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:06:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 234,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9205211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorgiGal/pseuds/CorgiGal
Summary: Percival Graves had everything taken from him - his sanity, his life, his own face, and any sense of control over the world. And now MACUSA wants to take the only thing he has left - his job.But Tina will not let it happen.GoldGraves





	1. A Crazy Idea

**Author's Note:**

> If you're a GoT fan, the story title should be familiar to you, but rest assured this has nothing to do with GoT. I just thought the Martell words were oddly fitting for this story, and for the Graves character.

The storm had started again and Tina cursed herself for not leaving the office earlier. As each minute passed she would see another one of her colleagues pack their bags and leave for home, not an ounce of worry on their minds. Even her sister had already left hours ago and probably already had dinner ready. Tina expected to receive an angry message from her at any minute, scolding her for spending so much time at the office after being reinstated.

But she felt like she had no choice. Thanks to her efforts and Newt’s glowing recommendations, she had been given her job back that same day and she wasn’t going to lose it again. There would be no more irresponsible behavior, no more drifting from what was assigned – no sir. Tina Goldstein would make herself proud, and her sister proud, and maybe even the President. Maybe.

“Sleeping on your desk tonight, Goldstein?” The young man next to her asked as he picked up his coat. Roscoe DeSoto was still new to the Senior Auror team, only six months in, but was eager to make a difference. As late as Tina would stay, Roscoe would never be too far behind, filing paperwork faster than any of the others in his class.

“Maybe. This desk _is_ bigger than my apartment.” She said with a smile. It was the safe, typical ‘New York Apartments are small’ jokes, but it was all she could muster at that time.

The young man laughed, putting on a dashing hat that completed his outfit. He was always dressed to the nines.

“Then you have me beat, mine feels no bigger than my briefcase,” he responded, turning the corner. “See you Monday, Goldstein.”

_No bigger than a briefcase_ , Tina thought and her smile immediately faded. She looked up at the door at the end of the hall and sighed, feeling a familiar pang of guilt that had haunted her for nearly a week.

It was a night that could never be obliviated from her mind. She had been sitting at her bed, mindlessly flipping through pages of that day’s New York Ghost – December 8th evening edition. She had already read the whole thing many hours earlier, and could practically recite the _Louisiana Wizard Transfigures Aunt into Gator_ article by heart. After all, it was the one next to the article she couldn’t bear to read – _Finding the Real Percival Graves – Ally of Grindelwald?_ So, she kept telling herself that after reading the Louisiana article she would read the Graves one, but of course, it never happened.

There was a strange sense of anxiety keeping her alert, keeping her heart beating just a little louder than it usually did and Tina could not place why. Her sister felt nothing unusual, and no reason for something to be wrong. A first for her. She thought it was still the shock of what they went through, of how she had almost died, how poor Credence was blasted away thanks to a maniac. It _was_ normal to not feel completely right after those events; at least that’s what she reassured herself as she reached the end of the newspaper for the umpteenth time. Still avoided that same article.

She had reached to turn off the light when a sudden cold breeze brushed through her hair and now Tina was alert. Before she could grab her wand, a silver light burst through the wall, the figure barely visible. She dropped the paper. She knew that Red-Tailed Hawk Patronus all too well.

It was Graves. The real Graves. And he was alive.

_“Tina, help, please. I’m in a fucking briefcase at home. Trust. No. One.”_

_A talking Patronus?!_ It was unheard of. The voice was weak but it was his, she was sure of it. In record time, despite all the questions and doubts, she had gotten dressed and apparated to his house, a large manor in the New York countryside, far from the city. She heeded his warning and brought no one; told no one. Not even Queenie.

She could still remember her voice becoming hoarse from the screaming as she ran through the various halls, desperately looking for any sign of him. Accio’ing the briefcase was no use, as she tried the spell in virtually every room in the house but to no avail. It felt like she pulled apart every piece of furniture, but there was no briefcase. Did he mean something else? What if it was in his office?

His office… she suddenly thought. She had entered a million rooms in that house but not an office. If she knew Graves at all, he would have a home office. There was no way he wouldn’t – the man listed work as a hobby for Merlin’s sake. She made another round through the house but again, no office. Where the _hell_ was his office?

She took a deep breath. There must have been an office. If an office existed, there would be a record of it. If there was a record, it would be in the archives. It had to be in the archives.

When she apparated back to the MACUSA office she was hardly coherent as she demanded the Graves House Floorplans from the poor Archive employee who Tina never learned the name of. They were starting to keep track of all floorplans as new buildings and houses were made, but Graves’ house had existed for so long it was practically an institution. There had to be a floorplan.

The weary white-haired woman brought back a barely legible, yellowed piece of paper that Tina quickly folded before leaving, having zero regard for the upkeep of such a historical document. She wasn’t even sure she thanked the poor woman that night.

Back at the Graves house, holding the paper in her hands she went from room to room, checking each one off. With each room accounted for she began to lose hope again; maybe he didn’t have a home office after all. It was a stupid idea. What was she thinking? She shook her head, looking for the next room. It was large, adjacent to the living room at the east end of the house. But the room she was in was far too small compared to the plan; it wasn’t even half the size.

She looked at the map again, referencing the other rooms she visited. No, this room was definitely a bit small. And awkward. It resembled a small hallway with how tight it was, and felt more like a closet. Suspicious, she turned to the wall opposite the living room and knocked.

The knock was hollow.

She backed away, her eyes wide. _Could this be?_ Raising her wand she took a deep breath.

“Revelio.” She whispered, as Newt had a mere day ago. The ordinary wall faded into the air, revealing the rest of the room as she suspected. What she didn’t expect was the stench. The stomach acid came to her throat and Tina nearly gagged, doing all she could to breathe from her mouth instead. She couldn’t place it, but it felt like a mix of blood, urine, feces and Merlin knew what else. “Accio Briefcase.”

The cabinet at the end of the room rumbled and the door suddenly flew open; a large, old briefcase falling out at her feet. Without a moment’s hesitation she kneeled down and clicked the latch, afraid, but hopeful of what she would find. The lid flew open, revealing a pitch black hole, and with it, more of that pungent stench.

“Graves?” she called out, hesitant. The silence chilled her heart as she wondered if she had just been too late.

“Goldstein?” A weak voice called out. “Is… Is it really you?”

_He’s still alive_ , she thought, her heart racing. She looked closer and saw the grizzled man - in only worn boxers and an undershirt - so far down the case it was hard to see. With a flick of her wand the case shook and rumbled against the carpet, turning on its side and expelling the grizzled man inside.

He landed on all fours, screaming as his hands touched the ground and he quickly recoiled, putting all support on his knees alone. It was almost too much to take in. Without thinking, Tina flew down to the tortured man, wrapping her arms around him as he fell into her, sobbing into her shoulder in, what she imagined, must’ve been pure relief. She didn’t care that his thick beard reddened her neck. Or that his entire body reeked of a near inhuman stench that would surely destroy her clothing. No, he was alive, and that was all that mattered.

It was only when she had him in the hospital that she noticed the bloodied, mangled hands and it was suddenly no wonder he couldn’t bear to lean any of his weight on it. It was then that she fully realized how skinny he was; with barely any meat left on his bones. Or even how he flinched whenever any of the healers so much as moved towards him. It was only then that she truly let herself see what Grindelwald had done.

She never thought in her life she would Percival Graves so weak, so vulnerable. Crying. Desperate.

And when he was released from the hospital and returned to work that Monday, he was no longer that man. He marched through those doors clean shaven, his hair brushed back with not a strand out of place, and a little bit of weight back on his bones. He smiled at no one, spoke to no one, taking refuge in his office for nearly the entire day. At some point, she saw Seraphina went in, surely breaking the news that Grindelwald had been extradited back to England already. It barely lasted long enough for the door to close behind her back.

Tina imagined that could not have been a pleasant conversation.

He only started speaking again that Tuesday, at the Auror meeting. He assigned cases, yelled at the smallest mistakes, and showed no sign of a sense of humor. It almost felt like the old Graves was back and no one said anything to his face. Behind his back, though, the rumors were plentiful. With nothing to go on, people made up their own stories of what he went through, what he saw. Some were even suspicious of the whole thing.

Tina, of course, received no shortage of attention from the entire office. She was interviewed by countless reporters, by fellow MACUSA Aurors, and even Madam President herself. That one was the most intimidating of all. But she respected Graves’ privacy and told them nothing of his demeanor that night; of his shame. No, to anyone who asked Tina Goldstein, Percival Graves was found fighting, able, and strong. He was about to break out anyway, she just assisted. That was her story, and she would stick to it.

Even though Graves had barely spoken a word to her since his release from the hospital, he did treat her differently. He never interrupted her when she spoke, like he did when the other Aurors made a stupid or silly remark. He looked her in the eyes whenever he stepped outside his office; almost as if he was looking for her. And sometimes, he smiled. A tiny, barely noticeable smile that would be missed with a single blink of an eye.

As Tina sat, alone in the sea of empty desks, she noted that she still hadn’t seen him leave for the day. She hadn’t seen him leave the day before either, but he was always there in the morning when she arrived. She suspected he had been sleeping in his office, and who could blame him, but it hardly seemed comfortable.

She stood, walking over to the door to check on him. He’d probably be livid that she was interrupting him, but she just needed to make sure he was alright. She took a deep breath. As her knuckles were about to touch the wooden frame, the heavy door creaked, very little, but audibly.

The door was open.

She peeked through the small slit, feeling her heart sink at the image in front of her. There was Percival Graves, slumped over his desk, cradling his head in his arms. She could see his chest heave with every deep breath he took, giving the relief that he was indeed alive.

She didn’t know for how long she stood there, watching the poor man sleep, and suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder. Tina gasped, nearly letting out a scream when she noticed the hand belonged to President Picquery, who quickly raised a finger to her own lips and shushed her. She walked past Tina, silently motioning for Tina to follow. They were heading towards her office.

“He’s done this every day,” Seraphina commented once the door was shut behind them. “Sometimes he has nightmares. The whole building shakes.”

Her voice was matter-of-fact, but Tina could tell that behind her eyes was fear; worry. Tina slumped on her chair, not knowing what to say or what to do. She was in the presence of the most important person in the country and yet had no anxiety about what she thought of her, if her posture was correct, if her choice of words was too obtuse. No, at that moment her thoughts were on the tired man she passed minutes ago.

“How could we not have noticed?” Tina whispered, looking down at the floor. It was more a question for herself than the woman in front of her.

“Grindelwald was a clever actor. He knew how to manipulate us, how to make us think it was all normal Graves,” she responded dryly, as if she had rehearsed it for an interview. Noticing Tina did not react she sighed. “But yes, we should have noticed.”

There was the pain again. Guilt. Regret. Tina shifted in her seat, keeping back the hurt from bursting through her chest as it had so many times at home, away from everyone. She would not cry in front of the President.

“What can we do?”

Seraphina laced her fingers, as if in deep thought.

“Some of the other Directors and higher-ups don’t trust him to be here right now. They think him weak. Some suspect he was a supporter of Grindelwald. It’s not all of them, but it is a large enough amount that it matters,” she said, avoiding Tina’s question. “They want to hold a hearing to decide. Next week.”

“What?” Tina asked, furrowing her brow. “How could they? He’s our Director of Magical Security. He went through hell and back,” Tina argued, all decorum out the window. “Madam President, you know this is all he has right now.”

“I know,” she answered quickly. “I don’t agree with their decision, but we are the Magical CONGRESS of the United States. I don’t make all the calls.”

“We can’t let this happen.”

“I agree. But I need your help.”

A beat. Tina let her anger and disbelief subside for a moment, if only a moment.

“What can I do?”

“He trusts you,” she said slowly, methodically. “He had the energy to send one Patronus that night and he sent it to you.”

“I guess?” Tina shrugged, not giving it much thought.

“I chose to demote you for your attack on the no-maj woman. He fought against it, vigorously, more than once. I do not ‘guess’ Ms. Goldstein.”

Tina swore she could hear a tone of jealousy in her voice, not realizing she was that possessive over Graves. Or anyone.

“Yes. But what does that do for us?”

“I think it might help him if he spent some time with you. And away from here.”

“The work distracts him,” Tina said immediately, ignoring the first part of what Seraphina suggested. It sounded insane. “We can’t take him away from it.”

“It may distract him, but it isn’t healing him,” she noted. “And I can’t have his night terrors continuing to shake the building every night. The no-maj are already starting to talk about the mysterious tremors at the Woolworth Building and I can’t let it go any further.”

“Have you tried offering him dreamless sleep?”

“He won’t take it,” she said quickly. “I’m not surprised.”

And neither was Tina. Graves hated hospitals. He hated medicine. The whole thing made him feel weak, and worse, made him look weak to the people who were supposed to look up to him. Tina and the others spent far too much time after missions wondering if the curse that hit him really ‘wasn’t that bad’ or if they’d wake to find him dead on his desk the next day. There was no in between with him.

“He won’t like this.”

“He won’t. But it’s the only chance we have to save his job.”

“So you don’t agree with them? You don’t want him out?”

“No.” She answered, her tone firm.

Tina took a deep breath, feeling at least a little bit of relief.

“When do we tell him?”

“Tonight. Before he hears it from anyone else,” she sighed, annoyed. “Go home and pack what you need for the weekend. When you’re done come straight back here.”

_Pack? She was going to stay with him?!_

Picquery must’ve noticed the shock in Tina’s face. “It’s only for the weekend. I need you to keep an eye on him. If you notice anything strange, notify me at once.”

“Anything strange?” Until a minute ago Tina was sure that she was on Graves’ side. The man was back, he was working, what could she possibly be concerned about?

“Yes. Keep your eyes open.”

“Understood,” Tina whispered, still in shock that they would try to do that to him. He deserved better. “May I go?”

“One more thing,” she noted. “I want you to be the Assistant Director of Magical Security until all of this is over.”

Now that was a new role.

“Yes Madam President.” Tina said quickly, trying to not show her shock. A promotion? She had just gotten reinstated a few days ago!

“This is only until the hearing is over,” she clarified, sensing Tina’s excitement and disbelief. “The position gives you enough clout to weigh in at the hearing on his status and maybe impact their decision.”

Tina shouldn’t have been surprised; it was no secret that Seraphina only tolerated her to get what she really needed – and at this point it was getting her Director of Magical Security back. After all, it was her that had been so eager to demote Tina for her momentary lapse of judgment.

“Now you may go.”

Tina picked up her coat and hat and quickly walked out of that office more confused than she had been going in. She couldn’t shake how unfair the whole situation was, and worst of all, how Graves would react to these news. If he was already unfriendly, then this would make him completely unbearable.

On her way out she passed by his door, still slightly ajar. A quick peek in showed that he was still asleep in the same position and her heart clenched. She hated what she was about to do, but knew she wouldn’t be able to go home without it. It had been far too many days without checking in on him, and she owed him an apology, before the guilt overtook her. Taking a deep breath she backed away from the door and knocked on the frame.

There was rustling inside, followed by silence.

“Yes?” He finally responded, not sounding completely awake, but it was convincing enough for an unsuspecting guest.

“Mr. Graves, it’s Tina Goldstein. May I come in?”

Silence again. He was thinking. “Yes.”

When she pushed the door open she found him sitting back on his chair, right leg crossed over his left as his eyes scanned the thick file sitting on his lap. To the untrained observer, this is what he had been doing all along; working, reading; awake and alert. It was impressive how quickly he managed to put himself together and Tina couldn’t help but be a little wowed.

She took a deep breath, fear now replacing any trace of guilt. “I’m about to head home for the night. Just wanted to make sure there was nothing left you needed me to do, sir?” A cop-out. This was not what she came in there to do.

Percival took his eyes off the paper for a split second, taking in the details of the woman in front of him. The usual grey ‘uniform’ suit she wore hung a little looser to her frame, giving the impression that she too had lost some weight lately. At least since she pulled him out of that damned hole. She had left an extra button off the top of her shirt, showing off just a little too much skin, but he could hardly complain; the witch did see him in his underwear after all.

Her voice was helpful and somewhat cheerful but her furrowed brow and pursed lips told a different story altogether. Knowing Tina, though, it was probably just misplaced concern over his well being. It hadn’t been the first time she gave him that concerned look and, he figured, not the last.

Thankfully, it stopped at just that, a mere look. He didn’t want to be pampered, babied, or treated differently by anyone, even the witch who saw him at his most vulnerable; something, he noticed, she told no one. He wanted to thank her for her discretion, for the rescue, for the support but backed away from it whenever she caught his eyes. It pained him to admit it, but the thought of saying those words just made everything too real, too raw and he would feel himself shattering again just thinking about it. And there was no way Percival Graves would crack in the middle of MACUSA.

“No, you can go home Ms. Goldstein,” he said curtly, looking back down at his papers. He couldn’t even thank her for asking. “Goodnight.”

This was the part where she would respond in kind, take her belongings, and leave his office. But, he reminded himself, this was Tina Goldstein, and she was not so simple. Frankly, she was a damn pain in the ass most of the time, with the questions and the color commentary. Of course, she hadn’t moved a muscle and he looked back up at her, noticing her eyes gazing down at the tile floor, seemingly looking right through it. He cleared his throat but she did not move. Goddamn it Tina.

“Are you alright, sir?” She finally choked out, fearful of his reaction. _Almost there. She needed to do this._

He took a deep breath, frozen. He knew that was coming sooner or later. He needed her to leave, _now._

“Yes. _Goodnight_ , Ms. Goldstein.” He stressed without changing his expression.

Again, she did not move.

“Goldstein,” he sighed, throwing his papers to his desk before uncrossing his legs, as if meaning to stand. Her eyes widened and she took a step back. While he was frustrated, he was not angry and it was the last impression he wanted to leave. “Tina,” he corrected, softly. He didn’t use her first name often. “I’m catching up on a lot of work. Everything is fine. Now go home, _please_.”

“Yes sir.” She said quietly before quickly leaving his office, the door shutting behind her. It was a moment she would beat herself up over for days to come.

_That woman_ , Percival thought, rubbing his eyes in frustration. _What the hell was that about?_

He closed the case he was working on, resigning it to the pile of unfinished paperwork that was quickly becoming twice as tall as his coffee mug. For the next few minutes he could only replay the fear in her face after he spoke and hated himself for it. He already had more than enough time to reflect on how much of a monster he must have resembled when Grindelwald sentenced her to death, wearing his ‘mask’. It hadn’t been him, obviously, but he loathed the idea that the incident left a mark on her; a fear of _him_. The idea that he could really be such a monster.

He pushed the thoughts aside, cushioning his head in his arms as his eyes begged for darkness. Maybe this time the nightmares wouldn’t haunt him.


	2. The Clash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina and Seraphina drop the hammer.
> 
> But Percival is a stubborn man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - Starting with this chapter, Italicized portions of the story will be flashbacks to Percival's time being kept by Grindelwald. Expect physical, mental, and emotional torture (with varying degrees of intensity). If you don't want to read this, just skip until it's not in italics anymore.
> 
> Thanks - I saw a cool headcannon on Tumblr about Graves having this annoying assistant, Nell. If you came up with that idea (can't seem to find your name) feel free to comment and I'll credit you appropriately :)

_Percival awakened with a groan. The excruciating pain that pulsated from his arms couldn’t keep him in his stupefied state forever, though as he came to consciousness, he wished it did. He tried to move his hands, to push himself up, but the slightest movement had him hissing through his teeth. There was no need to open his eyes and see the carnage, it was clear they were mangled. But they were still there. He tried again to move a finger but nearly cried out in agony, biting down on his tongue to keep from making any noise. Announcing he was awake could be a deadly mistake, one he drilled into all his Aurors whenever he could. If their captor didn’t know they were awake, they had a chance to escape before the horrors started._

_And that’s exactly what Percival intended to do._

_He took a deep breath, assessing the situation. What did he remember? He had been going into his house when something – someone – attacked him. There was shouting and a flash of red, and that was it. The coarse fabric of the carpet on the back of his arms and legs gave him comfort that he wasn’t completely naked, though he did not have many clothes on. He could feel the silk of his shirt rustle when he moved, clinging to him, probably wet with his own sweat. If it was blood his chances of survival would go down drastically. But the most important discovery, was that he could move his upper body._

_He opened his eyes, tentatively at first, scanning for people, for movement, but found none. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but he knew where he was. Long, heavy oak desk on the corner by the window. Cabinet filled with odd trinkets he couldn’t fit in his office. And so many books. A sigh of relief. It was his home office. And whoever stuck him there must not have know about the portkey he kept hidden inside the main drawer; an old quill of black hawk feather, set to take him to MACUSA should trouble suddenly arise._

_With hope rising in his chest, he turned over, careful to rest on his arms. His legs were magically bound, but they weren’t broken or hurt. He’d have to crawl. It was diminishing, but it would have to do. Taking a deep breath, he dragged himself through that thick carpet, feeling his bare arms burn against it, but made no noise. If he wanted to survive this, he would have to keep his desperate need to kill the person who did this under control, at least until he was out. If he let his anger consume him, he’d make a mistake. And with broken hands, no wand, and no proper clothing, he had to remain calm._

_Calm. He took a deep breath. Percival Graves could do calm._

_It was hard to keep his hands from instinctively grabbing the floor to propel him forward. But he had to pull it off before his captor came back, or Merlin knows what else would happen. The pain had his mind shift to killing the poor idiot who did this, but he pushed it away._

_He pushed forward a step, left arm burning. Maybe the person was some kind of thief, after the family heirlooms. Foolish, he supposed, for trifling with him, but not the most unusual idea. This was better. Calmer._

_Another foot or so gone, now his right arm burning. It clearly wasn’t a murderer since, well, he was alive. Could be some kind of lunatic, though, he had caught plenty. Those were unpredictable, but not impossible to deal with._

_And then, as he was about to touch the foot of the desk, all progress slipped through his fingers as his arms burnt again – with him being dragged back to where he started by a force he couldn’t see or feel. Fuck, fuck, fuck! His captor, the one with the death wish had returned. Fuck! But Percival was no quitter, even in the face of whoever had caught him. He pushed up on his forearms, ready to confront the son of a bitch who dared mess with him and was immediately pushed back down, by something physical this time._

_“Percival Graves,” the man said with a heavy accent. European… British? His foot pressed against Percival’s back, keeping him glued to the floor. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.”_

_“Funny, I don’t know or care who the fuck you are.” Percival fired back, his voice hoarse._

_The pressure on his back lifted and Percival was suddenly turned over, his back to the carpet again. He froze. He’d looked at enough wanted posters to know this blonde haired, expressionless man in front of him. Wearing his suit; his black suit with the custom made red trimmings; custom made! It cost him a fortune. And he was holding -using - his wand. Oh, he would pay for this._

_“You Americans have a lot to learn about manners,” he said, shaking his head. “Crucio!”_

_Percival’s body shook and he screamed as every nerve in his body seemed to be simultaneously pulled and pushed in every angle known to man. This wasn’t the first time he’d been tortured, especially by that damned spell, but this was so much more powerful and sadistic._

_“I hope you’re not overwhelmed already,” the man taunted. “Because this is only the beginning.”_

_“If this is the best you can do,” Graves gasped, looking up at the tall man who gave him the same unimpressed look he gave his own Aurors every day. “Then they should really lower the bounty on your head.”_

_His face remained stern, not falling to Percival’s taunt. Grindelwald wouldn’t expect such a bold move from him; it could throw him off. Or so he hoped. But Grindelwald knew better, and those small-time acts wouldn’t phase him._

_With all the care in the world, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a quill. An old, black quill. The same one Percival saw as his chance of escape. It was hard not to show the disappointment on his face as Grindelwald twirled the object between his fingers before breaking it in half and dropping it on Percival’s chest, unamused. Bored._

_He took a step forward and with a wave of his hand he pulled Percival’s arm from his chest and stretched it on the carpet. He tried to move but this time he was completely immobilized, with not one muscle responding to his commands. But Grindelwald wasn’t done. He took another step, putting his boot – Percival’s boot – right over his broken hand before, ever so slightly, turning to look into his eyes, with not a drop of emotion on his face. And he paused. A second passed, then another. Percival knew he wanted him to beg and plead and retract his words, but he wouldn’t give in. He couldn’t. But Grindelwald would not let a challenge sit and before Percival could say anything else, could even take a breath, his foot came down, shooting pain through his body worse than the Cruciatus curse could have done. He didn’t know for how long he screamed, or how he hadn’t passed out again, but something kept him grounded, kept him in the moment, kept him frozen in pain as he felt his bones crush._

_“Do I need to stress the gravity of your situation any further?”_

_He removed his boot from the broken hand, squatting down slowly. Percival, still in a state of shock from the pain, couldn’t muster a word, his whole body shaking against his command. Grindelwald, still not entertained, brushed his hand through Percival’s thick hair, brushing it back with affection that, at the time, made no sense._

_“I want this, boy,” he sighed, his fingers now gently caressing Percival’s clearly disgusted face. Percival growled, trying to break free from whatever was holding him to the floor. If he hadn’t been constrained by some unknown spell he would’ve ripped Grindelwald’s hand right off for that. No one touched him – even his own Aurors knew better. “Now now, no more fighting. Why don’t we do this the easy way?”_

_“Do what?” He struggled through the pain still radiating from his mangled hands. But he could feel what Grindelwald wanted. As his hands seemingly showed affection, he felt his mind being examined; poked and prodded for information he guarded better than a vault. It appeared he wasn’t the only one skilled in wandless magic._

_“Occlumency. Such a fine skill to possess, wouldn’t you say? Keeps unwanted wizards out of your head, out of your secrets. And you have many secrets. About the people in your department, about your investigations, even about me.”_

_Percival didn’t dignify that with a response. He would never be able to get past all the walls he erected; not even Seraphina on her best day could scratch at it._

_“Take it down. Take it down, and I will stop.”_

_“Fuck you.” Percival said, spitting on Grindelwald’s smug face so quickly the madman had no time to react. It was a dumb move, a dumb and proud one, but he hoped it would throw him off and he'd make a mistake. This was still escapable._

_He could’ve sworn that Grindelwald growled and the pain was immediate, this time radiating from his skull down to the rest of his body. He could do nothing but scream as his bind wouldn’t even let his body react to the torture. But he did manage to get him to respond to something he did, progress that he had to keep in mind if he was to survive this. He needed to figure out how to manipulate his captor as much as his captor hoped to manipulate him.  
_

_“Someone will come!” He said through the pain. “They’ll kill you for this!”_

_“Oh? And who will come, exactly? Your friends?”_

_It was a taunt; one that even a blind man could make. While Percival had no issue making connections and socializing at the highest caliber – schmoozing, as Tina called it - he didn’t exactly have people he could call friend. At least, not since his school days._

_“The president maybe? But you and I know both know she’s not moving herself anywhere, even for you. No, Percival, this is just you and me right now. And for a long, long time.”_

_Percival shook his head, resisting the urge to succumb. No, his team would come for him, after all, he always came back for them. They would know he was missing, he was sure of it. How many days had he already been in captivity anyway? It felt like an eternity since he last walked home._

_“Crucio!” He said again, his fingers burning against Percival’s scalp, delivering a shock so intense that his body nearly lifted off the ground. It was as if each bone in his body was being broken simultaneously and then crushed between rocks and for a second, Percival wished for death._

_“I can’t wait to kill you,” Percival gasped, feeling the air scarce. “I can’t wait. They’ll all kill you.”_

_Grindelwald laughed – a disturbing, knowing laugh – and the pain was gone for that sweet, sweet moment. But it was only that, a moment. He stood holding something in his hand. Whatever it was, it was thin and barely visible. His heart sank as he realized what Grindelwald was doing and he felt like a moron for not putting it together earlier – they were loose strands of his hair._

_There was already a potion sitting on the back of his desk. His prized, oak desk that had seen so many generations of use. Grindelwald dropped the strands into the potion and drank; even he not able to hide his disgust for the taste. Within seconds the tall blonde man’s face started to disfigure, melting and morphing into an inhuman shape before settling on a familiar face. A very familiar face._

_“They’ll know it’s not me,” he said with confidence for perhaps the first time that night. “You can’t pos-”_

_“And what makes you think that?” Grindelwald interrupted, his accent suddenly a thing of the past and replaced by a nearly perfect American one. “I’ve been watching you for a very long time, Percy, which, if I remember correctly, is a name no one is ever allowed to call you. Except the President, sometimes. I know all about your days at Ilvermorny, or how you went on to become the most accomplished Beater in the team’s Quidditch history. That was before scoring perfect marks on all those tests and becoming the youngest Auror to join MACUSA, and the youngest Director of Magical Security to boot. Well done, well done.”_

_Percival could not muster a word. His shoulders squared perfectly, his gaze was chilling, and each word he pronounced, aside from being in American English, was true. He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, giving it a light pull before turning to the correct direction, the same way Percival did every morning. It was like looking in a mirror. He didn’t think it was possible for his heart to sink any further, but it did._

_“I didn’t just read about you either. It’s amazing how many things we can pick up on when we pay attention. Have you yourself ever noticed how you tend to stick your hands in your pocket when you’re nervous? Or how you roll your eyes whenever anyone says the word irregardless? Or better yet – the way your eyes light up whenever Ms. Goldstein makes an appearance in your department?”_

_“No.” Percival said in defiance._

_“Maybe I’ll make her acquaintance. After all, would she really know the difference?”_

_No, not Tina. He would not drag Tina into this; the girl had been going through enough with her goddamn demotion. No, this madman would not take the trust he built with her, use it to his advantage and, and… no, he couldn’t even bear to imagine it._

_But that mere split-second thought of that madman so much as touching the young girl pushed his anger over a limit he hadn’t reached in years and it lashed out all at once. “Avada Kedavra!” Percival yelled at the top of his lungs, straining to point his broken fingers towards the impostor. Grindelwald flinched as a green flash emanated from his hand but fizzled and fell to the floor before it could even reach its victim. “Crucio! Confringo! Expulso!”_

_Each spell was more disappointing than the last and Grindelwald couldn’t help but smile. Percival’s gut twisted in a knot, watching his own likeness revel in his inability to do anything, to help anyone._

_“To think, that if you pulled that off you’d be the most famous wizard of our times. I picked the right man.”_

_Percival jerked his body towards his replica, his legs finally able to break through the invisible binds and he lurched forward, flinging himself at his captor. That should not have been possible, though at that state Percival never questioned why he had been able to do it. After all, he had bigger problems in front of him._

_The hatred in his eyes must’ve shook Grindelwald, who stepped back and pulled out Percival’s own wand against him._

_“Brachiabindo,” he muttered, and with that Percival fell to the floor, his face smashing against the carpet mere inches from Grindelwald’s feet. “I can see that I’ve got my work cut out for me when it comes to you and your mind. No matter, though. I have plenty of time to break you.”_

_No, he really didn’t, Percival thought, putting all his strength into blocking his mind from Grindelwald’s prying eyes. His team would notice that he wasn’t responding to urgent owls, that he hadn’t come into the office on time. And surely they’d notice an impostor. All he had to do was hold out. He could hold out._

_“Well, let’s get started, shall we? Crucio!”_

_Percival screamed again, for what would not be the last time that night._

_\--_

“Sir? Mr. Graves, sir?”

There was a hard knock for the second time that night and Percival Graves was ready to murder the person at the other side of that door.

Judging by the intimidated and, quite frankly, stupid tone, it was his own personal assistant - secretary, really -  Nell Wallis. The boy, a recent graduate at Ilvermorny had graduated by the seat of his pants and now had the privilege of a top job at MACUSA because of his last name alone.

“What?” Percival growled, his body still hunched over his desk in fatigue. The good old days of being able to sleep anywhere at any time were clearly behind him whether he liked it or not, though Nell surely couldn’t relate.

“Madam President wants to speak to you,” he said. Even on a Friday night the woman would still haunt him, though that was not unexpected. “She’s in-”

“I know where she is,” Percival droned, using his arms to pull himself up and off his desk. With a wave of his wand the door flung open and the skinny brown-haired boy nearly jumped back. “You can go now, Nell.”

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

There was silence. What could he possibly have to say now? It was unbelievable how a dull person could get such a coveted position. Oh, the world of connections… _the same connections that helped you get where you are_ , he thought. _But at least you are competent, unlike this idiot._

“Does that mean I can go home?”

“If you don’t, I will send you there.”

He had never seen Nell get out of his face so quickly before; the boy practically apparated out of the office that a part of him worried about the boy getting himself splinched on his way out.

And once again, there was silence.

For a moment, he just stood by his desk, looking down at the mountain of paperwork that had put him to sleep. There were so many documents requiring his signature – arrest warrants, search warrants, pending executions - that he wondered if Grindelwald even tried to do any of it while he inhabited this space.

He was about to step out when he noticed a small paper mouse at the corner of his pile. Unlike the other white ones he received throughout the day with updates on cases and reports from Aurors, this one was a mix of red and blue, made of thicker letterhead that couldn’t be easily destroyed.

They never had good news. In his entire time at MACUSA he had only received three others, all notifying the Directors and other authority figures of major changes in the establishment. All three he’d received had to do with deaths or firings of other major personnel.

The paper felt particularly coarse under his fingers as he slowly unfolded each part of the mouse with tremendous care. If anyone else had gotten canned, he surely would have heard about it. Picquery would’ve said something. But after what he went through in the past month, he couldn’t help but feel that this had to do with him. He held the paper, still folded. Realistically, he was just delaying the inevitable.

He unfolded a bigger portion and caught a glimpse of his name. His hands begun to shake.

He had spent nearly a month bound, broken, starved, and isolated with the most dangerous wizard in the world, tortured into near oblivion, doing all he could to reduce the damage Grindelwald would do. Worse yet, he was forced to realize that with each passing day no one at MACUSA realized something, anything, was amiss. No one, not Picquery, who was supposed to be with him every single day for briefings and investigations. Not any of his Aurors. Not the other directors…

Another part unfolded. He caught the word ‘incapable’ and gritted his teeth.

…And Tina. Grindelwald, wearing his face, had sentenced her to die and she didn’t question it. He had to hear Grindelwald that day cursing him and the whole house because the people he sent to die had escaped and put his plan in jeopardy. The panic he felt at that moment was palpable; the idea that Grindelwald could do that, that he nearly killed one of his best Aurors and the brother of one of his dear friends tore at him. His heart clenched at the thought of Tina being dragged down into the death cells, having to go through the procedures, but that wasn’t all that bothered him. Tina did not question it. Had she really thought of him as such a monster that such an action seemed normal to her? Was that really his reputation?

The rest of the paper unfolded but he couldn’t bear to read it, not that he could even if he tried as the paper was shaking too hard for him to catch any more words. So he crushed it, slamming it against his desk for good measure. Fuck.

After all this, they wanted to take his job away. The nerve. He had to watch everything being taken away from him in the past month – his sanity, his life, his face, his sense of control over the world. And then he comes back, and they want to take the very last thing he still had, that he still treasured. It was the only thing still keeping him together, and it too was in danger. _The nerve._

No one could be trusted anymore.

He shook his head in a vain attempt to shut out those ideas, those feelings. But it was no use; the rage, the fear; he could only repress it for so long. He raked his fingers through his hair and with a deep breath tried to regain his composure. If he was going to plead his case to Seraphina, he needed some degree of control or else the President would send him scurrying. If she had called him, coincidentally at the same time he received this, maybe there was still time. Maybe.

There was no way around it. He had to face this. Even if it meant lying to himself about everything.

His footsteps echoed as he walked down the empty hallway. At the end of the hall the wide double doors bearing MACUSA’s eagle crest looked down on him, as if watching intently for what he was doing. Taking out his wand, Percival tapped the eagle’s eye, which came to life and met his own.

The president’s eagle had been enchanted for as long as that office existed to judge the intentions of the guest before deciding whether to open or rudely send the incoming guest flying to the other end of the hall. Before his abduction, the eagle would open the door for him immediately, but in the past week it seemed to do an awful lot more deliberating whenever he came knocking. Had it ever thought as long before letting Grindelwald in? How _did_ it let him in?

“Seraphina,” he said with the least irritated tone he could muster at this time of the night, knocking on the door. “It’s me.”

He couldn’t help but twitch as the door opened before him, flooding his senses with the sweet fragrance of peppermint. The large oval office greeted him, largely unchanged from the last time he had to go in. Unlike his cabinets full of various trinkets, hers contained all sorts of ornaments and gifts bestowed upon her by other leaders. It was her own personal bragging space and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes whenever he walked in and saw another ‘trophy’ added to her wall.

But this time, the first thing that caught his eyes was that Seraphina wasn’t the only person sitting there waiting for him. His eyes shifted from the confident witch to a clearly out-of-her-element Tina, sitting on a chair opposite Seraphina’s and next to an empty one that was surely meant for him. Had the woman really not gone home? He told her to go home!

“Percival Graves,” Seraphina said softly, distracting him from Tina. “I trust you saw the memo. Please sit.”

He sighed, knowing deep down that this is exactly what she wanted to discuss but dreading it regardless. His fists were clenched inside his jacket pocket and he had to use every ounce of restraint not to yell.

“Everything is fine.”

Everything was not fine.

“ _Percy_ ,” she said again, this time glaring. The corner of his lip twitched briefly; how he hated that nickname. If she wasn’t his direct superior, he would’ve sent her flying across the room. “It most certainly is not. Now _sit_.”

Her demeanor was chilling, but Percival’s was worse. She out of all people should have known. She sent a team of incompetent Aurors to his home after Grindelwald was captured and somehow none of them found him. And she did nothing.

_Stop. Calm. Composed._

“I’ve been working day and night since I got back, establishing new leads on wanted wizards, training the Aurors, coordinating with the other departments to prepare for the British Minister of Magic’s arrival next month; if it needs doing, I’ve done it,” he said, feeling as if he was speaking into the wind. It was all he could do to not have an outburst. _Calm, Percival, calm_. _You’ve been trained for worse than this._ “And yes, I did see the memo. A little too well.”

He did not follow her orders and stood by the door in opposition.

“I’m sorry you had to hear the news from there first. I meant to speak to you about it earlier today, before it circulated.”

“So you knew,” he said softly, his tone more accusatory than it should’ve been. “You started this.”

_Under control, Percival. Breathe. Calm. It’s not over._

“No,” she responded quickly. “This was not my idea.”

“Firings and demotions come from the top, Picquery.” He spat, feeling the anger rising in his chest.

How could she? He did everything to protect _her_. He nearly lost his mind to protect _her_.

Fuck calm.

“Not this time. This time they came from enough people that it could not be ignored,” she retorted, unimpressed by his outburst. “If I truly wanted you out, do you think I would be here with Ms. Goldstein trying to help you pass that hearing and keep your job?”

He stopped, trying to process everything she had just told him. The decision wasn’t final. There was a hearing. She didn’t completely agree with it. And Tina. Is that why she went into his office?

And he pushed her away. Fuck. He probably should’ve read the whole memo too.

“Now will you please sit already?”

Without saying a word he sat by Tina, avoiding her eyes. The chair felt all too small for him and he pulled himself further upright, pushing his legs apart so his knees did not bump against Seraphina’s desk. As hard as it was to look dignified in the visitor chairs – something Seraphina designed purposefully – Tina couldn’t help but stare at the imposing figure next to her. For all his torment, he managed to look cool and composed, as if he owned this conversation, and the room.

Seraphina waved her wand, bringing a few sheets of paper to her desk. She glanced down at the small pile and took a deep breath before looking up at him, serious as ever.

“Now, Percy. You took an away team with you to the Meatpacking District yesterday. Correct?”

“Correct.”

“You were after a known Grindelwald supporter that had holed up in a slaughterhouse. Correct?”

“Yes.” He sighed.

“But he escaped. Why did he escape?”

“Bec-”

“No, Ms. Goldstein. Why did he escape?”

Tina suddenly found herself as upright as Graves had been as her eyes made their way deep into Seraphina’s unforgiving gaze. She couldn’t bear to look at the man next to her, knowing his eyes were burning a hole through her head. This was not rehearsed. Seraphina did not tell her this would happen.

She had been in that team and she knew what she saw, and she knew what she reported. And she knew it was not consistent with what the others reported.

“He incapacitated Mr. Graves,” Tina started. “Which split the team, and gave the criminal a chance to leave.”

“Curious,” Seraphina stated quickly, looking at the papers. “Some of these seem to report that Percy became incapacitated before any spells could have been fired. That he panicked and fell.”

“I doubt it, Ma’am, this man was skilled in wandless magic and could have easily shot something at him before any of us noticed.”

It was a terrible lie. Tina was a terrible liar, and a terrible Occlumens and could feel Seraphina pulling the truth right out of thin air. Graves was never hit with any spell. He faced the criminal, saw _something_ that the others hadn’t, and crumbled to his feet, shaking, gasping for breath and clutching his chest before anything could happen. Tina was one of the few who stayed behind to pull him to safety while the others gave chase.

There was silence. Tina kept her eyes on Seraphina’s; strong and defiant. She had to, for Graves.

Percival was also well aware of the lie. He couldn’t suppress the relief that washed over him to hear Tina’s retelling of the story and his gaze softened, his chest suddenly warming. She was helping him. She cared. He couldn’t understand why the young witch had such a soft spot for her boss, but he was glad she did. She shifted in her seat, glancing in his direction cautiously but not meeting his eyes. He wished she would.

“Regardless,” Seraphina finally said. “It does not inspire confidence. Unfortunately, word of this mission caught the eyes of more than a few people.”

“How?” Percival growled, tearing his eyes from Tina. “Doesn’t that seem a little strange to you?”

“Word spreads, Mr. Graves, I’m sure you know how much of a gossip factory this office is,” she said, matter of fact. “But that isn’t all. You petrified a security officer this morning.”

“He pulled out his wand on me with no warning.”

“It’s the new security protocols I put in place – _Specialis_ _Revelio_ must be cast on anyone who enters. I’m sure you know why we put that in place.”

“I’m flattered at your reactive response to my detainment.” He muttered, barely loud enough for both women to hear.

“Being _pro_ active about it would’ve been your responsibility.” She responded in kind.

“Did you call me into your office to berate me in front of my own employee?”

“I called you to show you why this is happening,” Seraphina asserted, not missing a beat. “If you want to stay employed I would think very carefully about what you’re about to say to this.” She calmed, her tone more saddened than angry.

Percival immediately tightened up, his anger now fueled by fear. What else could she possibly tell him now?

Seraphina took a deep breath. “After reading all these reports tonight, it’s hard to defend the idea of you continuing to be my Director of Magical Security. At least, not in this state. I want to help you, Percy, but you’re putting me in a difficult position.”

He swallowed hard, feeling powerless for the first time since his imprisonment. Betrayed. This was the exact thing he had been fearing and dreading the most since he got back and a part of him was surprised it took a whole week for her to say it.

But none were more surprised than Tina. This was a complete reversal of the conversation from earlier; a total betrayal. She _told_ Tina – no - she _reassured_ Tina she was on Graves’ side, that she wanted him there. This made no sense. This couldn’t have been the first time she saw those reports. Unless… it was an act? It had to be an act.

“All because of a mishap or two?” He said softly, trying not to showcase the flurry of emotions overtaking his senses.

“It’s not that simple. Look, I know this is not your fault. But I just don’t think you’re ready to be back here yet,” she stopped, as if thinking about what to say next. For once, Percival was silent, as if resigned to his fate. “I think you’re doing a phenomenal job for your situation, Percy; being back here so soon. But you still have not submitted your statement of what happened the night you were captured, or any of your time in captivity. You refuse to let us have access to your memories. These are all things that _you know_ are required for this case; that will help our allies sentence this maniac. And then there’s all of this. How can I argue with the others when there’s living proof that you’re not ready to be back yet?”

She didn’t need to explain what she meant, he was all too familiar with the protocol as he was the one who helped to establish it. But he just couldn’t bear to relive the memories of the past month, at least, not yet. So he pushed it away. He pushed them away in the hospital, in his first day back, and every day since. It hadn’t been too hard, as everyone who tried was both terrified of his demeanor and guilt-ridden about what happened to him. They all merely nodded at his excuses and left him alone.

He was surprised Tina had never tried. Not yet, anyhow.

“Why did you let me have the job back in the first place?”

“Out of respect to your family, and to you,” she answered, something she had obviously rehearsed. “The rest of MACUSA was more hesitant. I fought them as long as I could, but they insisted on the hearing. And now, well, I can understand why.”

“So, really, was this your decision or their decision in the end?”

“They are often one in the same.”

“I know that’s not true.”

“Percy, I stress no final decision about your job has been made yet. There will be a hearing this coming week and if you succeed in convincing me and the others, you will keep your job.”

“Lovely,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “I can hardly wait.”

“And that is why I have brought Ms. Goldstein.” She said, ignoring his tone.

“You think _she_ can help? With what?”

Tina tried not to flinch. It was an unusually harsh tone she hadn’t heard since Grindelwald at the death cells. But he was under attack, and under stress, she had to let it go.

“You haven’t been home all week.” Seraphina noted.

“I have,” he lied through his teeth, rolling his eyes as if the discussion had begun to bore him. “And honestly,” he started, his tone annoyed, “I don’t see why this matters. I’ve spent countless days sleeping in my office in the past and you never once cared.”

She ignored that remark. “Security does not register you leaving these offices at night or coming in the morning.”

“I-”

“There are _records_ , Percy,” she said, trying to hide her outrage. “You only leave on critical missions, you eat lunch _and dinner_ at your desk. Have you even changed clothes once?”

“Forgive me, Seraphina, but there is work to be done,” he said, crossing his legs. “I’ve been absent nearly a month and my doppelganger didn’t exactly keep up with the paperwork. If it insults you to see me secluded, know I’m doing what is best for this office,” he paused, looking her straight in the eyes. “And for you, as well.”

Tina, who had remained largely absent from the discussion, decided enough was enough. She was willing to stand by her Director, but she also knew he needed help and was doing himself no favors with this pointless arguing.

“Mr. Graves, you’ve changed,” she said softly, her worrisome brown eyes ensnaring his. “I mean, after what you went through, how could you not? We all understand that.”

“It’s not that simple, Tina.” He couldn’t bring himself to be upset with her again. She may have been a pawn in whatever Seraphina was playing at, but she wasn’t bad.

“We see what’s been done to you. What it’s _still_ doing to you. No one expected you to be back to the office after what, four days in the hospital?” Her voice was weary and it was hard for him to doubt her sincerity. “If you’re going to do this, if you’re going to jump back into work, then let us help. I want to help.”

Percival took a deep breath. _Damn it, Tina_.

He wanted to reassure Tina he was alright, for old time’s sake, but it was well past that point. If she didn’t already know he was having some, _adjustment issues_ , then Seraphina just drew it all out for all to see. Smart of her, turning his own employee against him. And the more he fought her, the more ‘evidence’ she would bring out. He couldn’t escape this. And as a part of him wished for everything to return to normalcy, he didn’t want to fight it anymore.

“You’ve helped me for years,” she continued, giving him a weak, but genuine smile. “Let me return the favor. Please.”

“Alright,” he whispered, glaring past Tina at Seraphina, who sat erect with a smirk starting on the corner of her mouth, as if this was all according to some master plan. “I’ll entertain this idea.”

“Wonderful. Ms. Goldstein has agreed to help you re-acclimate yourself and prepare for your hearing.”

“Wonderful.” He said, with not nearly the same excitement.

“I’ve made her the Assistant Director of your department until the hearing is over so she has the authority to weigh on the others. If anyone asks, it is because of her bravery in aiding the capture Grindelwald, her skill in recovering you, and her dedication to the department.”

“Fine.” He growled, annoyed to have Picquery’s hand in his department. Considering how he wanted to fire every Auror who failed to find him in his own home, he didn’t hate the idea of Tina in a better role. She should’ve never gotten demoted in the first place anyway.

“And I want you both to take this weekend off. You will not set one foot inside of this building.”

“Bu-”

“I don’t care if there’s a Ukranian Ironbelly bursting through the floor, I will handle it. You will not be here. I want Ms. Goldstein to accompany you. You are not to leave her behind, or ignore her. Before the hearing-”

“You mean the trial.” He spat.

She ignored his interruption. “Before the hearing, she will submit her own evaluation to the Directors. And if she does not see you fit for service, I think there is a very good chance that they will agree to place you on indefinite medical leave. And this time, Ms. Goldstein,” she turned to Tina. “You will not be able to embellish this evaluation or any others. What you did yesterday, though noble, can destroy your reputation. I’m putting you with Percy to help him, not lie about him. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“She is my _subordinate_.” He stressed, giving Tina a chilling look she had not been expecting. It was one thing for the girl to help him, it was another to put his future in her hands.

“And the only other person in this office who isn’t terrified of you.” She said, referring to poor Nell. “Now go get some rest. I trust your house has enough rooms to accommodate Ms. Goldstein?”

“She’s staying with me? In my house?” He couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. Now Seraphina was really pushing it – there was help, and there was _this_ , whatever _this_ was. Madness, maybe?

“Yes, for the weekend at least she will stay with you. She agreed to this, you know.” She looked at Tina with almost as much pity as she did him.

With teeth clenched he realized the depth of the situation. His own boss, who he defended with his life multiple times didn’t trust him anymore. No one trusted him anymore. Except…

“What is this supposed to accomplish, exactly?” He whispered, almost to himself. He couldn’t help but be suspicious of her motives for wanting him gone over the weekend. What meetings did she want to have without his knowledge? Were they hiring someone else already?

“I think it will be good for you to settle back into your routine. If anything, it will show the others that everything is back to normal.” She said, her voice tiring. Normal. When was anything ever normal? “Before you go, take these the coins. If I truly need you, I will call you.”

She floated a couple of ordinary Dragots to the pair, who took them and stuffed them down their pockets. The enchanted coin would vibrate, burn, and eventually hum when they were summoned, the location of the meeting place inscribed in the metal. Before anything else could be said, Seraphina turned away from them and it was clear this was the time to leave.

Tina walked out the door first, motioning for Percival to follow. By his hesitation, it was clear he was not used to being the one following someone else around.

This arrangement was not purely for his benefit; Seraphina was more cunning and self-serving than that. The other Directors had gotten inside her head over the past week – he just knew it. He wondered what else they had suggested to her and quickly pushed away the idea that they already had a replacement in mind in case he failed this so-called hearing. _Or when they fail you on purpose_ , he thought.

He looked to Tina as they walked, entertaining the wild idea that she was in on this plan and was just waiting to sack her own boss. Maybe she was the one after his own job, she was an ambitious one after all. It was a sinister thought, and judging by her soft expression and the way she shot him a cautious smile when she caught his eyes made him quickly rethink his theory a bit. She may have been ambitious, but she wasn’t that cunning, or even cold-blooded like Seraphina had the potential to be.

After all, it was Tina who rescued him, and he couldn’t forget that.


	3. Exposure Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being back at the house, where it all began, trying to pretend everything was alright? Not even close. But Tina won't let him crack. Not again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter! Next one will be coming sooner and will have a lot more interaction between these two. Tina is a badass, I promise.

This was pure, fucking, bullshit.

There was no good reason for him to have to go back to his house. To where it all started. And Tina, Tina must at least somewhat agree that this whole thing was stupid. Why did he agree to this? Was he really so guilt ridden about his treatment of Tina that he’d agree to this crap? She was a good kid, but – well a good _woman_ , he reminded himself as he glanced down at her cleavage, her top button still undone from their previous meeting. But still, he needed to work, and now the whole weekend would be wasted, and doing what? ‘Healing’ apparently.

The security guard at the front wanted to see his ID. Stupid protocol. What did this ID check really do? Tina didn’t seem to mind. None of this phased her, apparently, so no use complaining to her about it. She may just shrug him off like Picquery did. _Wonderful._

He pulled out his pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. If this wasn't the time for a cigarette, he didn't know what was.

“Can we apparate there?” She asked, before they stepped out into the howling storm outside.

He thought about it for a moment, more conflicted on whether to change their destination than on her simple question. She wouldn’t like it, but he had to try.

“I think the house is a bit of a mess right now. Can we stay in your house?” He blew a puff of smoke into the air, away from Tina.

“No,” she said quickly, surprised that he would even suggest that. These were not Picquery’s orders, and as scared as she was as Graves, she was terrified of that woman. She could, apparently, turn on someone on a dime and she was not about to let that happen to her. “It’s not even a house, it’s an apartment.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I am not allowed to bring in men,” she insisted. “And, even if I did, I don’t have any extra rooms,” she lied, careful to avoid Percival’s gaze as she did. “And my sister lives there too – it would be unfair to her.”

“Queenie,” he said, as if remembering. Goldstein the younger. He had met the woman a few times and had to admit that she was pretty easy on the eyes, and he’d be lying if he said he never once thought of asking her out. In the past he put aside those feelings whenever she opened her mouth; the blonde was charming but he would have a hard time making any interesting conversation. Now though, knowing how powerful a Legilimens she was, he was terrified of being in her presence. He never wanted to feel someone trying to pry into his head ever again and pitied the poor witch or wizard who tried. “How is she?”

“She’s well, I guess. Dealing with some heartbreak.” Tina said, thinking of Jacob. Poor Jacob. Graves could never know about the two of them, lest he lose total respect for them, and obliviate the man again.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’ll find another guy in no time.”

Tina knew that wasn’t exactly true, but she humored him.

“So can we apparate to your house?”

There was no avoiding the question anymore. He savored the cigarette, knowing he'd have to put it out soon. How he missed this habit.

“To the outside of the house, yes. Can’t apparate inside. Unless Grindelwald changed that.” He sighed, still trying to think of anywhere else they could go. A few years back he almost bought an apartment a few blocks from the office but changed his mind last second because of a stupid sense of duty to his family. He was kicking himself for that decision now.

She held out her hand to him, letting him see it clearly as to avoid being stupefied into the Woolworth building. Oh, she would not make the same mistake as Smith, the Auror who went to grab his hand to shake it when Graves made his return. Poor guy was knocked out for hours. Well, poor Graves really. His hands were shattered so badly when she rescued him that it was amazing there were no visible scars. It was a miracle he could use them for magic, though she hadn’t seen him do any wandless magic that whole week. Normally she never even saw his wand, but now, not so much. It was strange.

“When we arrive,” he said, swallowing hard. “I want to put protective charms everywhere. We will enter through the back door, and, once inside, we will check the house. After all, it has been empty for some time and I don’t know if anyone tried to settle there. Clear?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, pretending like she believed his excuse. “Whatever you want.”

No one at MACUSA knew exactly how Percival had gotten captured by Grindelwald, and thus rumors were abundant and often ridiculous. The Director of the Treasury who seemed to dislike Percival in particular, speculated he had been out flirting and drinking with some no-maj ballerina and was caught unaware. Of course, such musings were ridiculous as anyone who knew Percival for more than a minute knew he would never enjoy no-maj activities, much less the company one. But as soon as Percival’s conditions for a mere apparition home spewed forth Tina suddenly had a sad realization as to why he had this paranoia about going home, though she could only wonder the horrors he encountered that fateful day.

With a quick stomp, he put out his cigarette on the floor. Not completely empty, but no matter. It was time. And he was no calmer.

He slid his hand into hers slowly, closing his eyes. Admittedly it was easier for him to touch her than the other way around, even though the end result was the same. It was harder still to keep the fear at bay as the seconds ticked by and he was closer and closer to going back to where it all began. That evening was still too clear for him - the sudden man beside him, the spell he just couldn’t block, his mind being immediately attacked. The pain, the fear, the helplessness. If Tina knew, she would understand his hesitation.

_Then show her_ , a whisper of a thought suggested but he quickly shook it off.

“I don’t see why we have to go there of all places,” he whispered, his fingers trembling against hers. This was an admission he did not want to make, not to her, not to anyone. “But I don’t have a damn choice, do I?”

“What if we… apparate somewhere else first?” She suggested, gripping his hand to stop it from shaking. Her soft fingers warmed him and a part of him relished when she moved her thumb against his palm in a feeble attempt to soothe him.

“Somewhere else?” He said with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, somewhere outside the grounds, where no one would expect,” she said, as if trying to entertain his manias. “And then we walk to the house.”

Hm. It wasn’t terrible.

“And then we walk,” Percival repeated, thinking over this plan. It sounded ridiculous, and he knew it was insane but the idea did have him feeling at least a little better. He nodded. “Ok. We walk.”

She locked his fingers into his, careful not to put too much pressure on him. To her surprise, he embraced it, welcoming her gesture with softness she wouldn’t have expected from such a stern man. When she was first hired, her first ever handshake with him left her entire right hand numb.

They walked outside, the chilling wind smashing into them so hard Tina nearly lost her step. Percival, seeing and sensing no no-maj around, apparated them.

In a flash they disappeared from the dark, chilly street and reappeared in a clearing in upper New York state, a manor barely visible in the distance as it blended in with the starry skies above. No storm, no winds. Percival immediately crushed Tina’s hand before pulling it away from hers, looking wildly in all directions but it was impossible to see anything. The moon above them barely gave him enough light to see her silhouette right next to him, much less a lurker in the distance. Whatever affection had been shared between them was now gone.

“Protego Totalum,” she said with a quick flick of her wand. A golden bubble appeared all around them, shielding them from whatever was out there, or could be out there. “Now we walk.”

It was no surprise that even with the charm around them Percival did not feel safe. The worst part of his capture was the sudden realization that nothing, anywhere was safe anymore. Sure, everything felt better at the office, but even that place wasn’t really a refuge. If only Seraphina had let him kill the monster, but no, she just had to extradite him back to England immediately before he could look into those cold, unfeeling eyes one more time. He promised Grindelwald he would kill him himself, and he was keen on keeping that promise someday.

The anger bubbled again, but he needed to push it away. For his sake, and hers.

“So I heard you’re seeing that Brit,” he blurted out, trying to distract himself with the first thing he could think of that would ground him back to reality. “The Scamander fellow; the little brother.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“What’s there not to know? He didn’t ask to date you?”

“Not… exactly,” Tina said, remembering their goodbye, or lack there-of.

“Strange world we’re in then, where men don’t take the initiative.”

“Mr. Scamander had other things in his mind, like his manuscript.”

“I’m not criticizing the fellow, after all he did arrest that monster,” he clarified with a slight annoyance. It still bugged him that such an ordinary wizard could, in the span of a day, defeat the same wizard that he couldn’t. The fellow had just been lucky after all, at the right place at the right time, _unlike you Percival_. “I’m just saying that a man should have the courage to ask a lady out.”

“It’s not always required, depending on the lady,” she mused, fascinated that her love life, or lack thereof was suddenly a discussion with her boss. He was the last person she expected to ever bring this up. He must’ve been _really_ desperate for a non-work, non-threatening topic of conversation. “These are different times Mr. Graves. It’s perfectly acceptable for the lady to take the initiative.”

“Nonsense,” he dismissed, amused at the idea of a woman asking him out. “You’re either getting a coward or a man who isn’t truly interested in you. And… please drop the ‘sirs’ and ‘misters’ while you’re here. Just Graves will do. _Tina_.”

“Well, _Graves_ , I hardly believe Newt Scamander is a coward,” her tone agitated but ignoring his other remark and rushing to change the subject. “And I can hardly understand your sudden love of gossip.”

“I do not. Nell was talking about it outside my office and I couldn’t help but hear.”

“That’s still gossip.”

“That’s your opinion.” He said, also hoping to change the subject. He couldn’t help but feel a tinge of relief upon hearing that she wasn’t really seeing him though. So Tina Golstein was single. Not that he cared, it’s not like he was trying to ask her out. What a dangerous idea; the boss shacking up with an employee. As if.

They walked in deafening silence, the gates to the manor coming up quickly. Percival moved his wand, pushing the hardened metal bars aside to let them in with ease. They both placed another charm on the house, a gold veil covering the entire length of the property.

“So this belongs to your family,” Tina said, looking to the large house. “It’s huge.”

“It’s been in our family for generations. Since my ancestors moved to America, practically,” he said coldly, repeating the mantra that had been taught to him since he was a boy. “And I’m the one who loves gossip.” He whispered, mainly to himself.

“Do you like living here?”

“Not particularly. It’s peaceful, I guess, but I’d rather have a place in the city. My own place. Something smaller, and less historic.”

“Why not do that then?” Tina asked, as if it were easy. It’s what she did with her sister; no regrets.

“There must always be a Graves at the Graves house,” he said, again, rehearsed. “And I’m the last living Graves.”

“But why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you have to stay here if you don’t like it? Who cares what your ancestors would say?”

“There’s magic in this house, imbued in these walls. The house takes care of itself, like a living thing, among other things. If I go, the magic goes. So here I am.”

Tina sighed. This was dumb. Graves was living his life out of some duty to his current and future family and why? But hell, she wasn’t going to go keep confronting him about it, the man was having a hard-enough time just being there.

And thus, Tina dropped it.

“Where’s the back door, exactly?” She asked, changing the subject again. For a second Percival wondered what else she’d heard about him and his family; probably nothing flattering if his recent reputation was accurate.

“It’s right by the large maple tree, with the branches about to burst through the windows, there are stairs leading down the basement. Not too flashy.”

With little effort and a quick wave of his wand, he unlocked the creaking door but did not enter immediately. Strangely enough, he felt safer standing outside in the freezing cold, alone and in the dark than stepping through those doors. But Tina was waiting, and he couldn’t stand there forever.

He still relied on his wand for all these simple commands. Odd. Old Graves would’ve used his hands.

“Lumos,” he whispered, his voice cracking as a powerful beam emanated from the tip of his wand and lit up the entrance. “After you.”

Tina stepped in without a moment of hesitation, light shining from her wand as well. He closed the door behind them and immediately started casting every protective charm he could think of. If it had been in an Ilvermorny textbook, then it had been recited a minimum of three times by Percival Graves as he made his way through the deathly silent house.

The house looked how he had left it a month ago, at least for the most part. The old medieval-looking furniture that had been in his family for centuries remained untouched, but with no signs of dust. Now as he walked through each room he noticed little details he hadn’t noticed when she dragged him from the case, starved and sleep deprived. For one, all of the paintings had been covered with towels, sheets, bedsheets; probably anything Grindelwald could find. When he pulled a sheet out of the famous painting of his great grandfather, Aurelius Graves, the man jumped.

“Percival! Where have you been dear boy? We’ve all been worried sick!”

He ignored the portrait and continued removing all the sheets as he passed, filling the halls and rooms with excited voices from all his deceased family members. Some of them muttered something about moving? Is that what Grindelwald told them?

When he got to his parents he stopped, letting a thin smile cover his face as they greeted him. His mother, with her long summer dress opened her arms, as if to hug him and he sighed. His father, with his thick beard and a heavy, navy blue coat merely nodded at him. The sincerest sign of approval from the man.

“He covered them,” Tina whispered as she helped him, getting bombarded with comments and questions of who she was and what was doing there. “To keep them from seeing him without the potion on.”

“I certainly didn’t,” Percival scoffed, the distaste of this place dripping from his voice. “Who knows what else he didn’t want them to see.”

“What else can we undo?” She continued, avoiding his brusque answer.

“I’d say to undo the curtains, but I would rather wait until morning for that.”

They continued making their way through the downstairs area that never seemed to end when Percival suddenly stopped in his tracks, nearly dropping his wand. The white carpet, still showing scattered bits of blood, the all-consuming stench. He was back.

It was all so sudden.

A pain shot through his stomach, searing, cold, traveling up his throat. The features of the room began to blur together, dancing in the faint light of the hallway. He couldn’t tell where the floor began and the wall ended, the room a spinning ball he couldn’t stabilize on. A burn on the back of his throat. Not again. He fell to a knee, hearing it thud against the hardwood floor, the sound bouncing through his head like a heartbeat. He could almost feel the throb in his hands as he clutched at his chest in a faint attempt to quiet his heart. Everything throbbed, like his body had become a single pulsing heart. Somewhere, far away, Tina yelled.

He could see himself lying on the carpet, useless, weak. Grindelwald standing over him.

There was a flash of light in front of him and he could barely register a wall shutting off the room from him. He gasped, drowning in nothing as the air avoided him. And then, as his second leg began to give out, something held him. Someone. There was darkness in front of him. As his vision failed him he saw a vague outline of Tina in front of him, holding him, steadying him. She said something, but he couldn’t hear it. His ears rung. Everything hurt; every muscle ached, every nerve was on end.

Grindelwald was now standing in front of him, shattering his hands. He could hear each bone cracking.

Her arms were around him, and his next gasp for breath contained traces of her sweet perfume, reminding him of a mix of berries. He took another breath, another injection of that relieving scent shooting straight through his head. The same scent when she rescued him. A third breath. He could hear her now, a little.

“It’s alright, Graves, it’s alright,” she whispered, and he could feel her hand through his hair, another on his back, holding him steady. “I’m here. We’re here, together.”

“Yes.” He gasped, the pain in his stomach lessening. He swallowed, wetting his throat for what felt like the first time in ages.

He had to get a hold of himself. It wasn’t happening – he was home, but not a prisoner in it. He was with someone, but it wasn’t a maniac. He clutched her back, flexing each finger as he did, expecting pain but finding nothing, only the coarse fabric of her coat. And Tina, poor Tina had to be there to witness him crumbling once again. He wanted to take solace in her caress but hated himself for even needing it in the first place.

“Let me be,” he growled, sounding harsher than he meant to. “Please.”

With his eyes shut he focused on his breathing again, listening only to the obedient footsteps from Tina as she moved away from him. But her fragrance remained with him, stuck on his jacket, bringing him back to earth one shallow breath at a time.

“My name is Percival Graves,” he whispered. The mantra that kept him alive, and sane. “I’m the Director of Magical Security. And I am fine.”

Another repetition. A deep breath. Another repetition.

He opened his eyes, steadying himself on the wall Tina built to pretend that that office didn’t exist. It was ridiculous. The entirety of MACUSA depended on him and he couldn’t even function without that goddamned wall there. It was an ugly reminder of who he had become. Someone who couldn’t protect himself or his people, who could barely even stand on his own. Weak. Pathetic.

Another deep breath. Tea? Chamomile tea?

Tina?

He took a step towards his kitchen, keeping a hand on the wall for support. Tina didn’t need to do this. Another step, another deep breath. The world wasn’t spinning anymore. She probably pitied him. No, she definitely pitied him. He took his hand off the wall and another couple of steps. He squared his back, taking another deep breath before stepping into the spacious kitchen. Tina stood at the corner, quietly sipping the tea, deep in thought. Before he could make any noise she noticed him and her eyes widened.

“I made myself some tea, I hope that’s alright. It was in your pantry. You can have some.”

“No thank you,” he muttered, with no intention on indulging in any of this. He did enough to destroy his self-image already. “I’m going to bed. There’s plenty of rooms upstairs, just pick one.”

“Yes sir. I mean, Graves.”

He was halfway up the spiral staircase before noticing that she didn’t fight him at all. What a new one, Tina Goldstein following orders without a single complaint. Maybe he should have these nervous breakdowns more often.

It was strange to finally be back in his own room, with everything seemingly the same way he left it. It even made him wonder whether Grindelwald had actually slept in here or if he had gone for one of the many other rooms in the house. It would make sense for someone like him to want the master bedroom, but Percival hated that room. Too big, too fancy, too everything. It had been his parent’s room. This smaller room was more his style.

He reached the bed – his bed. It was made and straightened, with nary a wrinkle on the red duvet covers. Even the set of feather stuffed pillows he loved were fluffed and full, sitting against the headrest.

With everything in order, he started his old bedtime routine – trying to get back into the habit. He slipped off his heavy winter coat and hung it on his chair with the greatest care. The chill in the air already had him shivering and he quickly slipped off the rest of his clothes and substituted them for his warmest set of pajamas – heavy wool and black as the night, with the top two buttons off - that couldn’t help but show how much weight he had lost over the past couple of months as it hung loose against his frame.

Even while safely in bed under the covers he could not completely turn the lights off, keeping enough on to still be able to see the outlines of everything around his room. A part of him wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to rest under the cover of complete darkness ever again. Every few minutes he would shift, making sure he could feel his wand still safely in his pocket, pressed against his right leg, just in case.

He could hear the seconds tick by from the old grandfather clock across the hall, but sleep would not come easy. Whenever he started to doze off, a small creak from the walls, or the howling wind outside would wake him right up, having him clutching his wand for what felt like the millionth time. Still, Percival Graves was not immune to the needs of his body, especially a request for rest. It took hours, but he finally drifted off to sleep, still holding onto his wand, still reciting his mantra in his head.

He was Percival Graves, and he would be fine.


	4. Just Take the Potion Graves!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina finally makes some real progress with Graves

_The clock chimed. A pause. A second chime._

_“Crucio!”_

_Pain. Pain everywhere. A third chime. The pain of a broken rib. His liver splitting. A fourth chime. His head ached; pounded against his skull. He wanted to break it open. It would relieve the pain, maybe. A fifth chime._

_Then quiet._

_It was five in the morning. How long had it been?_

_Ground yourself, Percival. Think. How long?_

_The first time he counted the chimes it was ten. Ten at night. Seven hours._

_He took a deep breath._

_My name, my name is…_

_My name, is Percival Graves._

_My name is Percival Graves and I am the Director of Magical Security at MACUSA._

_The man sitting in front of me is Gellert Grindelwald. He looks like me, but he is not me. I am me._

_And then pain again, sharp knives burning through his skin. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. He’d screamed so much already. And the burning, the constant burning, consuming, eating him._

_“Why do you resist me?” Grindelwald said with a weary sigh. “You know you cannot keep this up forever. You know no one is coming. I told you I will stop if you let me in. So why, Percy, why?”_

_“My name is, my name is Percival,” he growled through the pain, his voice thin, weak. “They will come.”_

_“They’ve forgotten about you.” He asserted, raising his wand again and Percival couldn’t help but flinch._

_“No.”_

_Another shot of pain. This time his head would burst. Overwhelming. Gasping for air; his lungs ached and sank in his chest. Another gasp. Knives through his throat. And then a pain in his stomach, a different pain._

_He gagged, the hot stomach acid burning his throat. This was the fourth time, but there was nothing left to put out. Nothing left. Nothing…_

_Something cold hit his face. Wet, lingering. Water?_

_“Hey, we got an owl,” the voice said. “From the Virginia Chief Auror. He suspects a certain Gellert Grindelwald was seen and requests more Aurors for a local search. I think we’ll grant that, no?”_

_“I… I got an owl,” Percival muttered. “Not you. I.”_

_Percival coughed. Hacked. Something wet hit his mouth. Metallic. Thick. Blood?_

_Water hit his face again. Did he dare open his eyes? He had to._

_A paper in front of him. With words. A letter. He knew that handwriting. Messy. Ugly. It was his. The signature. His signature._

_“Pretty good, right? Took me forever to get your lower case ‘r’ right, looks like a v. Let me tell you, your handwriting is the worst I have ever seen. Would’ve gotten you expelled at Durmstrang.”_

_“Fuck you.”_

_Pain again. His chest was about to burst. Was he dead? Was this death? He couldn’t breathe again. His eyes ached; weighing him down. He could scratch them out. That would feel better. Maybe._

_My name is…_

_My name is…_

_He couldn’t. Flashing memories. Madness. Where were they? He couldn’t hold out anymore._

_He couldn’t._

_And suddenly, light. And his mind was on fire._

_There he was, entering Ilvermorny. Choosing Horned Serpent. He would make his parents proud. His family proud. Meeting his classmates. Anxiety._

_A teenager. Captain of the Quidditch team. Winning the cup against Wampus. Thrills._

_His last year. Taking his girlfriend on a date by the lake. Her favorite place. She looped her Thunderbird scarf around his neck and kissed him. Happiness._

_Graduating from Auror training. An empty chair where his parents would be. Anger. He would kill the man that did it._

_And then everything at once._

_The identity and locations of all his undercover Aurors. Background information on all high-ranking officers within MACUSA. The location of all the most dangerous and precious magical items, as well as how to access them. Anything and everything Percival guarded like a vault, now in the open._

_He failed. He could barely pronounce his own name, but he knew he failed. He failed his president, he failed MACUSA, and he failed the wizarding world. All because he couldn’t hold out. Weak._

_And then nothing. Numbness._

_My name is…_

_My name…_

_“Well Percy, I’m a man of my word. No more of that dreaded curse tonight. I think you’ve earned yourself a break.”_

_Percy… my name is, Percy?_

_The clock chimed again. Once. Twice._

_His body levitated off the floor. Third chime._

_He could barely keep his eyes open but saw a briefcase. An old briefcase. He was going in. A fourth chime._

_A thud. He fell to the bottom. A fifth chime._

_The lid closed. And from far away, a sixth chime._

_He coughed again, his throat on fire. More blood._

_My name. My name is Percival. My name is Percival Graves._

\---

He awoke with a crash, sitting up and immediately lighting up the whole room as if it were day. All the trinkets and mirrors had crashed to the floors, broken, shattered. The bookshelves, while still intact, had lost most of their books which lay splayed facedown on the floor with careless abandon.

The bed, pillow, and especially his pajamas were soaked with sweat and he knew at once that whatever shook the house had come from him.

“Graves!” There was a hard knock at the door and for a minute he did not want to open it. With a flick of his wand everything was set back to the wall, the books back on their resting places.

He went to open the door, trying to look as composed as he could. “Yes?”

She stood outside his door with her wand out, the fear and concern evident in her eyes. Her pajamas were a pale shade of gray and much tighter than the usual clothes she wore to the office and Percival couldn’t help but glance down her cleavage for a second before realizing what he was doing.

“Sir, the entire house just shook – did you not notice?”

“Not particul-”

“Graves, you’re completely wet,” she noted, reaching out to touch his face but he pulled away before she even got close. Merlin, he forgot to cast a drying charm like a fucking first year. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” He lied, trying to hide his frustration.

She scanned the room before putting her gaze back to his own dark panicked eyes. “Graves. If this is going to work then I need you to be honest with me.”

He stared blankly at her, trying to decide if this was a battle worth fighting. Lucky for him, she was not going to let him make that decision.

“Do you have a potions lab?”

“Yes of course,” he answered. “It’s downstairs, by the kitchen. Why?”

She turned and walked downstairs, ignoring his question. For a moment, he was frozen, a million questions flowing through his head – did she know he did this? What potion did she want? Why the heck was she doing any of this? Was her body always this sculpted and he never noticed?

“Tina,” he gasped as he ran after her, making his way down the steps with ease. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you.” She said, her voice annoyed.

“I’m sure you think that,” he said, equally annoyed. “But really, what are you doing?”

She ignored his question, making her way to a large windowless room with furniture as old and traditional as the rest of the house. The western wall contained numerous, endless shelves of completed potions while the adjacent and opposite wall held the ingredients. A quick scan of the shelves revealed that what was there was too basic to do any good. Lucky for both, the various cabinets had no shortage of ingredients.

“I’m going to brew something to help you sleep,” Tina said calmly as she picked out the perfect piece of knotgrass. “And don’t tell me you don’t have trouble sleeping. You’ve had bags under your eyes all week.”

He had been shut up before even thinking of a response. That observation was a hard one to confront.

“Stress related,” he growled, taking the knotgrass of her hands. “I don’t want the potion.”

“You need the potion and I am not going to fight you about this.”

“Stop, Tina,” he said, feeling the heat of anger rising on his chest. “I don’t want it.”

Tina sighed. She didn’t want to remind him that his job was on the line. He’d had enough that night and a reminder was not needed. But what else was she going to do?

“Ok, I’ll bite. Why?”

He opened his mouth to respond but no words came out. Tina raised her eyebrows, expecting a response but putting it out in the open just made it way too real. Tina was not going to let him get away without a response.

“Because,” he started, trying to buy time. She gave him the most annoyed look she could. “It’s addicting. At my post, I can’t be an addict.”

“It _can_ be addicting,” she corrected him before resolving to find the other ingredients. “It isn’t always. Depends on the person, really. I don’t think you’re susceptible to it; you’re stronger than that.”

There wasn’t much he could counter to that and she knew it. It’s not like Percival would ever call himself weak, especially in front of one of his Aurors.

“I’d still prefer not to take the risk.”

“And I’d prefer not to be brewing a potion at two in the morning.” Tina grumbled.

“What was that?” He asked, the disbelief clear in his voice. He heard it alright.

“Graves,” she nearly growled, losing patience with the stubborn man. “Your nightmares are shaking the ground and the buildings. Including the Woolworth building. If it keeps up, we risk exposure. We can’t risk that. Now will you please let me brew you this damn potion?”

Now that was an even harder argument for him to counter. While Percival might never call himself weak, he would also never let himself risk breaking their most important law; even by accident.

“Then why didn’t Seraphina tell me this?”

Tina thought about it a moment. She had wondered the same thing throughout the meeting. Why would she only tell Tina about it? It would certainly convince him to take the potion. But…

“Probably because it wouldn’t get you out of the building, only to take the potion. I think she wanted both.”

Now that was even harder logic to counter, with Graves trying hard to find something to say in opposition. If what she just pulled out of her ass was true, then Seraphina was way craftier than Tina would have expected.

And then, a sigh. Graves had closed his eyes and now pinched the bridge of his nose before handing her back the knotgrass he took.

Progress, finally. Tina felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders as she took the simple ingredient and watched him walk over to the nearest pewter cauldron, lighting a quick fire underneath.

“Potion of dreamless sleep is brewed best in a copper cauldron,” she noted, switching cauldrons with a flick of her wand. “Though I appreciate the help.”

“And here I was thinking it was draught of the living death.” He mocked, helping her with the ingredients.

It was hard not to stare as she leaned over the cauldron, her shirt sliding up and revealing just a bit of skin in her lower back. It was as smooth as the little he’d already seen, though there was a distinct red scar that disappeared into her pants. Did that happen as an Auror? Did she hide an injury from him?

“You’re not _that_ painful to be around, you know.” She said, interrupting his thoughts.

For someone disturbed from their sleep, her smile made it seem like it was morning already.

“I think most of the office would disagree with you.” He said, handing her valerian root, which she mixed in immediately. It added a sweet aroma to the air that filled the room.

“Most of the office doesn’t know you outside of your scowling. Your poor personal assistant sometimes cries in the bathroom.”

“He does not!”

“Graves,” she scolded, stirring carefully. “You tear into the boy every day.”

“I’m helping him improve.”

“You’re helping him go insane. You can’t be so rough on people.”

“If they were doing their job properly they wouldn’t hear from me.”

“Then you believe everyone in MACUSA is terrible at their job?”

_None of you noticed_ , he thought, feeling the pain of betrayal again. It seemed impossible to keep that thought from rising up and claiming its stake in conversations and he wished he could stop it. He had to not answer that.

“I don’t think you’re terrible.” He reasoned, almost to himself. At least switching the topic to her would kill his anger, even if only by a bit.

“Oh? Do you remember my first week?”

“First week? That’s not a valid example, I’m hard on everyone in their first week.”

“You put me on the team after the most dangerous thief in America,” she continued, ignoring his rebuttal. She spooned some of the of the blue liquid and brought it closer, taking in the aroma of the potion. It was almost there. “When we found him, in Arizona of all places, I fumbled and he escaped. You yelled at me repeatedly and made _me_ cry in the bathroom. It was my third day.”

“But then _you_ captured him the next day.”

“I did. It doesn’t erase what you made me go through.”

“You did something incredible for a new Auror because I pushed you to do it. I knew you could, and I wasn’t surprised.”

“Please. You needed the job done and were short staffed. I’m not oblivious.”

“That isn’t true. Yes we were short-staffed that year, yes I wanted him captured, but I knew what you were capable of and you didn’t let me down.”

“Me, capable?” She had to stifle a laugh. “That’s the first I’ve heard of this, out of your mouth.”

Percival paused. No, impossible. He must have praised her at some point, hadn’t he? He held his breath, flipping through years of memories. _Hadn’t he?_

“The last thing I want to do is inflate the ego of a young Auror, for obvious reasons,” he reasoned, crossing his arms. “But I knew you had potential. On our first defensive drill, you were the only person able to completely conceal yourself; none of us could find you.”

She warmed immediately, and not from the hot potion bubbling by her stomach. Graves actually did pay attention, and whether he meant to or not, he did pay her a compliment. If that was the only thing she personally got out of the weekend, then it had been worth it.

“I was also the only Thunderbird in my training class.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“You didn’t participate in the hide and seek cup every spring? Back in school?”

“No?”

“Oh you missed out,” she smiled, to which he raised an eyebrow. “It’s a Thunderbird tradition. We play a school wide game of hide and seek and whoever holds out the longest would win the ‘cup’. It was nothing special, this ragged wooden thing that looked more like a tea kettle, but we took it seriously.”

“Well good to know that silliness taught you something useful.”

“Yes, and how to have fun.” She muttered under her breath.

As she shook her head at his stubbornness, the potion started turning a purplish shade; the sweet, intoxicating smell noticed by both. He gave her a few vials which were quickly filled up and stored, except for one.

“You’re not doing yourself any favors for the hearing if you keep treating people that way,” she said quietly, cleaning her workbench. “You need friends.”

“I’m an authority figure, Tina,” he sighed. “I can’t just go to a restaurant after work and get friendly with everyone.”

“Maybe not something like that, but you can get to know them. Have lunch with them, ask them how their day is, I don’t know. You need people on your side.”

“Is this a hearing or a popularity contest?”

“You out of all people should know that sometimes they’re not that different.”

Tina’s implication wasn’t just for their current predicament, and Percival knew it. Perhaps if he had made more of an attempt to get close to the other people than Grindelwald would have never been able to so perfectly replicate his life.

With a sigh, he held the vial, knowing that the purple liquid would solve a lot of his sleeping problems, but he still hesitated. Drinking it would also admit that he did have a problem; one that he couldn’t take potions for for the rest of his life. And not taking it? More restless nights, endangering the community. Like the argument with Seraphina, he could push it as far as he wanted to, but at some point, he had to stop.

“It won’t kill you,” she teased. “Though Professor MacDonald would swear anything I made could kill.”

“He was kind of hard on us,” Percival mused, still staring at the vial. “But it made me a better potions student.” He emphasized, mustering a smile. It was such a rare sight that Tina could hardly keep her eyes off him, enjoying the barely visible lines that formed on the corner of his eyes.

He put the vial to his lips, trying not to taste the liquid as it poured down his throat. There weren’t very many good tasting potions out there; at least none he’d encountered.

With his eyes closed he didn’t notice how Tina had let her eyes wander down Percival’s brooding face and lightly ruffled hair to his chest and arms. With a couple of buttons off she could just barely see a few wisps of his dark chest hair poking out. It felt so forbidden to just be _staring_ there. She wasn’t even on a first name basis with him and she could see his chest with only a thin layer separating her from it. He usually wore such heavy clothes to work that it was rare to see him in something more form-fitting, that gave a definite outline to the toned man in front of her. It’s not that he was particularly strong, but if his forearms were any indication he could definitely hold a woman up if he needed to.

She tried not to blush at the scandalous imagery she painted for herself and couldn’t help but look away. It wasn’t the first time she’d had those thoughts before – even Queenie noticed – but it was so much more personal with him there, with little clothes, in front of her. _Percival Graves having wild sex against the wall with a woman_ , she thought with a smile, _how hot would that be_.

“Are you alright?” He asked, half-yawning. With the empty vial back on the bench she worried how long she had been daydreaming exactly. To her luck, the potion was already working and his consciousness was already starting to fade.

“Yes, how are you feeling?”

“Tired.” He yawned again.

They walked back to their rooms, with Percival barely able to keep his eyes open as they trudged through the old house. He didn’t even remember saying goodbye to Tina as he fell back on the bed, dozing off before his head hit the pillow.

As he fell on the bed, a distinct snoring sound emanating from his body, Tina couldn’t help but watch. This would probably be the first decent sleep he got in a week, the poor guy. He deserved it. But he had fallen asleep before he could even pull the covers over him, and given how cold this house had already gotten, he’d freeze like that. But did she dare to enter his room? If he wasn’t asleep he’d kill her. If only he wasn’t such a hard, stubborn person; _damn you Graves_.

But she had to. She couldn’t just leave him like that. She took a few cautious steps in, hearing the old wood creak underneath her feet. Did he hear that? He didn’t move. He was probably out cold, or at least, she hoped. If the potion was perfect, it would take a lot more than that to wake him. She took a few more steps and just watched him there, face-down, a part of his legs hanging out of the bed. Oh, but that she would not touch – that could actually wake him up. Too risky, even for Tina.

So she did the safe thing, pulling the heavy covers over him. Very heavy; made for a much heavier winter. Expensive, probably. He didn’t react. This was the first time she’d ever seen him sleeping close-up and he just looked so relieved, like his body was thanking him for getting real sleep. And Graves was never, ever relieved at anything. She sighed, taking a few steps back as the guilt hit her chest again. He would recover, he’d get to keep his job. She’d make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite Thunderbird headcannons (as a TBird myself!) is the hide and seek competition. I'm sure Tina would've dragged her sister into it too!


	5. All Work and no Play Makes Percy a Dull Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina tries to convince Graves to spend his weekend doing something that isn't work and it doesn't go as well as she hoped. Thankfully for both of them, Queenie has the better plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - just came back to the US today! Expect some serious fluff and mayyyybe mild smut in the next chapter. This is just the prologue, the calm before the storm as you will

The grandfather clock chimed, twelve times. Then silence.

It was high noon and Percival Graves still had not stirred. Tina paced around the large, nearly industrial sized kitchen, trying to focus on making a decent lunch rather than on whether her potion had actually killed him. He didn’t seem like the type to ever sleep in and aside from that past week, she’d never even seen him sleep. It was like he was a coffee powered screaming machine that just got work done. But now, as she walked past the high-powered stove with the missing ‘on’ switch for the twentieth time, she had to wonder if he _had_ died.

No, how ridiculous. He was not dead. She’d made that potion quite a few times for herself since rescuing him. She knew what she was doing.

With a flick of her wand the food left from the walk-in pantry flew in front of her and began to prep itself. There wasn’t much to work with but she would at least be able to make some sausage and mashed potatoes which should put some meat back on his bones.

Well, if he wasn’t dead.

She found her mind drifting back to the previous night, and to him. How he unraveled so quickly, falling, fading, _hurting_. If only she had noticed earlier, if any of them had, he wouldn’t have been in this kind of pain. It just shot through his eyes; his wide, panicked eyes that looked right through her at some invisible scene unfolding in front of her. Seeing Graves scared – terrified – was also something she never thought she’d ever see in her time at MACUSA.

There was _her_ pain again. Guilt. If only he would just yell at her, at the whole team for their failure. He must’ve wanted to; his attitude towards them spoke volumes. But he didn’t. And if she had to watch him continue to crumble then she was going to tell him herself. He had to know how sorry she was, how she knew that there was something very wrong when he sentenced her to death, but, damn it, she was so _scared_ , so shocked, she didn’t think about fighting it. And then they were running away, Newt was running, it was all so fast she didn’t rethink it. It was dumb, so dumb. This was the man that mentored her from her first day as an Auror, who fought her demotion with Picquery, who would still show up to see her in the fucking Wand Permit Office and give her hope it wasn’t all over. And she really, _really_ thought that guy would sentence her to death and engage her in a duel later? Would throw a damn car at her? What an _idiot_ she had been.

And what of the others? Picquery saw him every day! The other Aurors surely saw him every day. She may have been stuck at that stupid office but they really had no excuse. And the Auror team that was sent to his house? What was their excuse? Did they really not use any revealing spells to find Graves? And even after that failed, it seemed like all efforts to find him just came to a grinding halt. It was all so, so wrong. It was almost _too_ incompetent.

No, the idea there was a traitor in the office was ridiculous. Or even multiple traitors. Now she was starting to have paranoias like Graves and that just would not do. She needed to be a rock for him that weekend, to ground him back to reality, and pushing the idea that there were other people there in charge of maintaining him in pain was unthinkable. What would it really do anyway? Would they sit around the kitchen table drawing charts and figuring out who they could trust? No, that was madness. She couldn’t drag him down that path, or be dragged down herself. That wasn’t what Picquery wanted; it wasn’t why she put Graves with her in the first place.

Still, though… it was hard to shake the thought that something wasn't right. Something...

“Good afternoon,” his usual stern voice muttered from the door. Tina, still lost in thought, jumped nearly a foot in the air, which did not faze him in the slightest. “Keep alert, Tina. Distracted Aurors are dead Aurors.”

_Thank Merlin, he’s alive._

“Good afternoon.” Tina responded as dryly as she could, ignoring his mark and making sure the lunch she prepared was ready. Not even one sentence in to that day and a criticism. Typical.

He strolled past her, leaving behind a woody blend of lavender in the air that bit at her lips. Without another word, he sat down at the circular kitchen table, looking down at the morning paper she left for him before turning his gaze back to her. He was dressed for work – which should not have surprised her – with an impeccable charcoal gray suit against a pale shirt that she had seen one too many times. This one, specifically, added to his shoulders, making his figure even more imposing against the small table. Even on a weekend the man did not give it a rest, though a little part of her thoroughly enjoyed seeing him dressed up, all professional. It’s not like the man owned anything ‘casual’ anyway; he was probably born in a three-piece suit. As she moved through the kitchen, his scent still lingered in the air, reminding her that he was still very much there no matter how quiet he was.

But did he really have to stare? She was already self-conscious enough about the clothes Queenie packed her for the weekend – all a little too tight fitting but she _insisted_. Hell, her top was so low cut she could practically see all the way to her own bellybutton with a single glance down, so what would he see? She went to button up a little before realizing, there were no more buttons. This little weekend excursion was not the time to be self-conscious, _damn it Queenie_.

“I take it the potion worked.” She said, trying to keep her chest from his view as she moved the plated dishes to the table. 

“No dreams, no death. I guess we can make that assumption.” He seemed to struggle to drag his eyes from her top down to the food she placed in front of him.

She hated to admit it but there was something strangely exciting about having him not being able to keep his eyes away from her.

“The assumption that I made a perfect potion of dreamless sleep?”

“I don’t know about perfect, but it did its work.”

No praise. No surprise. But it did hurt, a little. 

“So what do you usually do for fun on weekends?”

“Work, mostly.” He responded dryly, flipping to the second page of the paper. A large image of the Fitchburg Finches Seeker speeding through the Quidditch pitch was taking up the whole page.

“What else?” She said, trying to tease something out of him. The problem was that he was a little too well rested, and too well guarded. This would’ve been much easier to do the previous night, while he was still tired. Maybe she should’ve made a crummier potion. “I know you must do _something_ fun when you're not yelling at us.”

“What are yours?”

She thought about it for a moment, surprised he would ask. He still had not started eating. “At night my sister and I like to go dancing. Sometimes we listen to wizzjazz.”

“Wizzjazz?” He did not sound impressed.

“Have you heard it?”

“Briefly. Sounds like noise. Disorganized, disjointed.” He mumbled, going back to his paper.

Tina rolled her eyes, clanking her silverware against the plate. Graves looked up in mild surprise but did not add to his comment. Disorganized? Had he never heard Ella Wizzbang’s _Mack the Wand?_ Or Louis Ellington’s _What a Wonderful Witch_? They had more sense in the first verse than he had after two morning coffees! She knew he was a stubborn man, but to dismiss wizzjazz so quickly? He picked the wrong person.

“If that’s your comment then you haven’t really heard it. There’s more than classical music out there, or whatever you listen to, you just have to be open minded.”

“I don’t see why when I already have real music to listen to.” He smirked, to himself.

She did not return his expression, instead raising an eyebrow at him much like he’d done to her more times than not. His food was still untouched.

“If you don’t like what I made, I can get you something else.”

“The food is fine.”

He still did not even pick up a fork, choosing to flip to another page of the paper.

They sat in silence for a bit, the only sounds echoing through the kitchen being that of Tina’s silverware against the ceramic dishes that had been in Percival’s family since they moved to America. At least she assumed, as each plate had the Graves name and enough scratches that even magic couldn’t repair anymore.

Graves just sat in silence, still reading. There was still some light stubble along his jawline and he scratched at it, making a face at whatever article he was on. It was hard to tell what captured his interest but it looked like something about a man and a goat?

“While you’re my Assistant Director, Tina, I could use your help. If you’re up to it.” He said, suddenly.

He did not look up as he spoke, still seemingly enthralled by the paper.

“Now? It’s Saturday.”

“I know what day it is, Tina, I’m reading a newspaper that has it on every page,” he said softly, making an earmark on one of the pages. “What, did you think a higher position meant less work?”

“No, but Ms. Picquery told us – you – not to work.”

“She told us not to set foot in the office. She never said we couldn’t work.”

“It was implied. _Heavily_.”

“But not said. The subtleties matter,” he said, finally looking up at her, serious, his eyes making a brief pause at her neckline before going up to her eyes. “But I know this is only a temporary job for you. If you’re not up for the challenge, then it’s fine.”

_Challenge?!_ Since when was slaving away at work a challenge? What, did he think she was some Wampus who couldn’t back down from a dare?

“How the hell is this supposed to help you?”

Graves smiled for a second before looking back down at the paper.

“Don’t you want me to be less stressed?”

It certainly wasn’t the worst logic she’d ever heard, though it was so utterly boring. Worse yet, it went against what Picquery really wanted. She remembered her words clearly, that the work wasn't exactly healing him.

“Yes, but not like this,” she said defiantly. “I don’t mind helping you with work, but this weekend is not the time for it, Graves. We should do something different, like, I don’t know, going outside or something.”

“Why?” He sounded disgusted. Did _anything_ make this man happy besides work? “Do you not see that it’s the middle of winter?”

“Well,” she said, fishing for ideas. “There’s a foot of snow from last night. We could go sledding, or _something_.”

She really wanted to suggest building a snowman for good old times, but he might rip her head off at that suggestion. So she kept it to herself.

“You’re _kidding_.” His eyes were burning through her in disbelief but she couldn’t look away.

“Not at all, there’s just so much to do outside, and it’s not even that cold out.”

“No.” It was a signal the conversation was to end there.

Tina knew the cue, but ignored it.

“It would be really fun,” she said, knowing she was defying him but feigning ignorance at his body language. His face twisted again and she continued. “Come on Graves, it’ll be a good break from work.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s a lot of work to be done, and you know this. We don’t have time to run around like a bunch of students on holiday.” He spat, folding up the newspaper.

“And you’re telling me you didn’t enjoy those days? That those little breaks didn’t make you feel better?”

“That was a long time ago.” He stressed, standing. He picked up his plate and the folded paper and started to walk away.

 “It doesn’t have to be, you know.”

He stopped and turned towards her, clenching the plate in his hand. He opened his mouth as if to speak but instead let out a sigh and just walked out of the kitchen.

The sounds of his footsteps weakened before vanishing completely and Tina nearly slammed the prized silverware down on the plate in frustration. How the hell did the president expect her to fix Graves, the toughest man she knew, in the space of a weekend? It’d be easier to turn Jacob into a wizard than to convince Graves to do anything he didn’t want to. Or even to do anything that wasn’t related to work.

With a flick of her wand she sent her used plate to be cleaned and found her mind wandering to his untouched plate of food again. Was he too polite to tell her he hated what she made and went to throw it away somewhere else in the house? She knew she wasn’t as good a cook as her sister, but she wasn’t that bad.

_Hm, Queenie._

Maybe her sister could be of some help. After all, Queenie wasn’t just a skilled Legilimens, she could sense feelings in people beyond what another wizard or witch could. And not just that, Queenie knew men better than Tina ever could imagine. Of course, Graves wasn’t exactly ‘any’ man, but he was still a man. It was worth a try, and as she pulled out her two-way mirror with her sister she hoped she’d be on the other side.

“Queenie?”

The mirror showed the patterned wall of their apartment, and she could just barely see the edge of their little spice shelf on the right. It was probably in the kitchen, knowing Queenie.

“Sis!” The image on the mirror shook and she suddenly saw her sister, looking all dolled up as if ready to go out, somehow wearing a blouse even more revealing than Tina’s. “It’s so weird not having you here.”

Tina looked around the empty kitchen, still not hearing a sound and cast an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door anyway.

“Queenie, I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“Me neither,” she shrugged. The last response Tina wanted to hear. “You just have to be patient with him.”

“Patient? His hearing is sometime this week. I don’t have time to be patient, and neither does he. I have to get his statement, his memories, make sure he takes his damn potion every night, an-”

Tina took a deep breath and dug her hands into her hair, her breathing suddenly short. This was all too much. In a week she went from being in a career rut to taking care of her supervisor and probably her own team of Aurors until the hearing. The Wand Permit Office sadly did not offer any training for this; for any of it at all.

“Calm down, sis. You really gotta take this stuff one step at a time.”

She laid her head down, much the same way she’d seen Graves do in his office numerous times. Hell, she needed a drink. With this amount of stress, it was no surprise he was in that position so often, usually with a bottle of Firewhisky nearby.

“What have you tried?”

“Done what he wants, mostly,” she muttered, looking up at the mirror. “Just fed his paranoia.”

“And?”

“Made him a little calmer. I think. He seems more himself this morning. Though that could be just the potion, I don’t know.”

Queenie flashed her a knowing smile, as if she could read her mind from there.

“So let him be. It’s just two days, honey. Stop trying to push him.”

 “You want me to just let him work even though we’re not supposed to?”

“If that’s what it takes,” she shrugged. “Just try it. Go help him out. C’mon, he’s been through a lot. He probably hasn’t done anything _he_ wants to for a month now, y’know?”

Tina frowned, thinking of her sister’s words. Grindelwald probably tortured the shit out of him for three weeks and then he comes back to the office to get bossed around by the President and the others. And now her. Given how much power someone like Graves normally had, this could not have been an easy transition. No, it was probably horrible for him.

But still, there had to be some _other_ way other than waiting. Queenie only watched as Tina’s mind was viciously trying to work through a solution that did something; that had some kind of positive action. She could trick him out of the house via a distraction or something; she could even threaten him if it came to it. But goodness he would be so pissed off if she did either of those things and he was one person she did not want to ever see angry. With his skill, she was sure he could kill someone with only a stare.

“None of that will work and you know it.” Queenie muttered, rolling her eyes.

“If you see him again, please never accidentally read _his_ mind. He will have a fit.”

“It’s never an accident.” She said with a smile.

“Speaking of accidents, how is Jacob?”

“Oh! The bank gave him the loan; he’s looking for a place now.”

“That’s amazing! He really deserves it,” Tina smiled with genuine happiness. Her sister had been with so many crummy guys in the past that Jacob was a real breath of fresh air. Even if it did violate Rappaport’s Law. Whatever, she'd deal with that when the time came. “How are you going to meet him? He won’t remember you.”

“I’m hoping he will. I don’t know, just been studying no-maj stuff to seem normal to him.”

“No-maj stuff? Like what?” Tina was intrigued.

“Did ya know they have this thing called a lie detector? It's supposed to be able to tell when people lie and stuff.”

“That’s… impressive actually,” Tina said, thinking of the possibilities. The no-maj version of Veritaserum potion? “What else?”

“Well I’ve just been looking through stuff they use. Found this potion thing that you’re supposed to rub on your skin. I guess it heals them? I don’t know. I’ll owl it to you, take a look.”

 “Yeah, sure,” Tina agreed, wondering about this miracle cure. It seemed way too potent for a no-maj item. “Hey sis, I know it’s soon, but can you keep your eyes open for any information on his hearing? Anything anyone might be thinking? I think he needs all the help he can get.”

“Of course,” she nodded, eager to help. “Shouldn’t be too hard. Most people think too loud in our office. Even Mr. Graves has been pretty loud.”

Tina Paused. “Are you sure it’s him?”

“With all the cursing? Oh yes. Mostly just angry thoughts, but, he does think about you.”

“He’s angry at me?” What could she have possibly done already?

“No, just in pain. Mostly guilt, I think. Well, that's all I get; nothing specific yet.”

“Guilt. What’s he got to be guilty of around me?”

Queenie shrugged. It made no sense. Out of all people he had the least to be guilty about, especially in regards to her. What could he possibly have done? If anything, it was her and the others who should be feeling that way, not him, he was just a victim of a fanatic.

Somewhere in the distance the soft sounds of a piano just barely made its way to Tina. The melody was slow, soft, and she was sure she’d heard it somewhere before but her memory for these details was shit.

“I should probably go, sis.”

“Alrighty. Be patient!”

Tina put away the mirror, taking a deep breath.

So there it was. She had no solution or a path to a solution other than… doing whatever he wanted. Which was nothing. This man had a hearing in a few days and she had to be patient. Yeah right.

Her footsteps, much like his, echoed through the spacious halls. There were so many rooms to keep track of it was a miracle she hadn’t gotten lost yet. Any painting she passed by would look up at her curiously, most not saying a word but only raising an eyebrow the same way Graves would. Surely there was no doubt these people were his family.

With the piano’s melody growing louder, Tina found herself inside his own personal library, bigger than anything she had ever seen outside of Ilvermorny. Now that she wasn’t rushing to find him like that terrible night, it was easy to take in all the fine details. There were bookshelves on both walls that went all the way up to the ceiling, which in this room was nearly three times Tina’s height, going all the way to the large rectangular windows at the end of the wide room. A couple of books would withdraw themselves and shake for a few seconds before sliding back into their old spots. Is this what he meant by the house taking care of itself?

At the center, next to the self-playing piano was Graves on a French armchair, leaning forward on the wide oak writing table as his eyes scanned the criminal files scattered from end to end. He glanced up at her for a moment before turning his attention back to his work.

The plate of food by his side was empty.

“Can I help you?”

“This is amazing,” Tina said, ignoring him. She brushed her fingertips through the books as she passed, reading their various titles. _All About Apparition, Volumes 1-9, The Broken Curse, Create Your Own Spell in 5 Easy Steps._ Everything looked intact, and without a single speck of dust lying on them either. “Have you read all of them?”

“No,” he chuckled. “Not even a tenth, unfortunately.”

“That’s still a lot.”

“It’s my hobby you could say. Since you asked.”

This was it. She could try to get him out of this space, out of his element, or she could try his way. Queenie's way. Her sister’s words echoed through her head but it was just so difficult to accept her advice, not when Tina was trained to look for the unknown, to try new things and explore. But maybe, just maybe, it was her turn to explore something ‘new’, even if it meant being cooped up all day right after a fresh foot of snow had fallen. Maybe...

He glanced up at her again, waiting. She shook her head. _Fucking Horned Serpents_.


	6. A Little Indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie's plan works a little too beautifully. Maybe she sensed more in Graves than she let on to Tina? Either way, it's about time these two take a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally letting these two have some fun. But is it as tame as it looks? 
> 
> Enjoy!

“What do you need help with?”

_What?_

Percival paused, dropping his prized quill. Those were literally the last words he expected to hear coming out of her mouth. He wasn’t a betting man, but he was sure that any other interactions with Tina would include her trying to convince him to do something, go somewhere; whatever Picquery wanted. Well, whatever she told the poor girl she wanted. And this was not that. This was Tina defying whatever rule she thought Picquery imposed, in her mind, and putting her job at risk. For him. Why?

“I’m trying to find the whereabouts of the Grindelwald fanatic that escaped from me this week.” He said slowly, still eyeing her with suspicion.

“The one that escaped all of _us_.” Tina emphasized, looking down at the scattered papers - witness sightings, blurred photographs, and even the transcript of an interrogation with another prisoner.

It was hard to suppress a smile. Cute. Tina Goldstein protecting his ego once again.

She looked around a moment before pointing her wand at the footstool by the corner and transfiguring it to a chair. The footstool that had been in his family for nearly one hundred years. The same footstool that once belonged to King Louis XIV of France. And she transfigured it into a _fucking chair_ and was now _dragging_ it against the hardwood floors with a screech that would haunt him forever, towards his desk, right next to him. Too close to him.

Percival grit his teeth. _Breathe_.

Without saying another word, she took the interrogation papers and the quill he had dropped – _his_ quill, with the bald-eagle feather – and started making annotations on the side of the paper. Another deep breath. Her elbow pushed against his as she made another scribble with _his_ quill. Why was she so close to him? He pushed his own chair away from her, but she did not even seem to notice. Maybe it wasn’t too late to go outside and go sledding or whatever it is she wanted to do; he kept the library as cold as he could anyway.

Even when he was finally comfortable, now with plenty of elbow space and another substitute quill, Percival still could not go back to his work. He caught glimpses of her long fingers pushing the papers aside; how they seemed to linger on the pages as she took in the contents, her brow furrowing depending on the sentence she was on. Unfortunately, she had put on her usual grey coat that covered her body and a small – maybe not so small - part of him wished she’d take it off again. It might have been warm but it did no favors to her figure like her sleeping clothes did. Heck, even the tight blouse she currently had on – which, by the amount of skin it showed, certainly belonged to her sister – would still look better than, well, _this_.

He may have been flipping through pages and pages of records and charts, but no work was getting done. It was just so damn tempting to sneak glances at her gentle expression, wondering what she was reading that made her suddenly smile or grimace, all without a clue that he was watching her so intently. Occasionally she’d run into something that probably didn’t make sense – none of this did, really – and she’d bite down on her lower lip and that little gesture just sent a chill down his spine he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.

Percival shook his head, turning back to the information in front of him. He really needed to work around more women, or _something_ , because this kind of distraction was nothing short of unprofessional, classless really. There was work to do.

The only distraction, nearly giving him a heart attack, came from an owl, furiously tapping at the window. As he watched Tina take the package he couldn’t help but note the obvious lack in their security, if the owl got in that easily. He’d gotten sloppy. _Distracted._

They sat in silence for hours, until the fading sun started to peek through the window as it began to set and casting a faint orange light on everything in the room. He could tell that Tina had begun to become restless as her gaze focused more on the window at the end of the desk than on the casework in front of her.

Who could blame her? It was hard not to be, as the forest surrounding the house was so gorgeous now with the sun setting. With the sky bathed in gold, the remaining light of the sun reflected off the snowy top of the many trees in the distance, giving them a glow that stretched as far as the eye could see. Percival had spent so much time in the city that he often forgot about the beauty of nature; he was much more adventurous in his youth and had seen more of it than the others would think. Hopefully Tina would never find out about that or, _Gods_ , she would never stop hounding him about it.

She suddenly closed the file she had, setting the quill down before scooting back her chair – the prized footstool in reality – and heading out the room.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s beautiful out, I want to go see it for myself; is that a lake out there too?”

“It’s a normal forest and a lake. You can see it from here.” He insisted as she walked out.

“It’s not the same. You can stay, I’ll be back soon, promise!”

Percival shut his files too, baffled at her response. It would be dark soon and this insane witch wanted to go out, in the middle of winter, alone. Had they even warded any of that area? Probably not. He almost couldn’t process it. He wasn’t sure if it was a sense of duty, or protectiveness, or even insanity, but he found himself following her out into the frozen landscape.

“This is a bad idea.” He muttered to her as they crunched the soft snow. He’d been in such a hurry to leave after her that he neglected to grab his long coat, a decision he was now regretting dearly as the wind swept in from behind, seeping through his jacket and vest and chilling him down to the bone. He cast a quick warming charm on himself. No matter, they’d be out of there in a few minutes anyway; he’d make sure of it.

“Why?”

“It’s dangerous. It will be dark. It’s freezing.”

“We placed wards everywhere,” she reassured him. “We’ll be back before nightfall,” she added. “And you can borrow my coat if you want.”

“And then what will you wear?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said with a thin smile. “Really.”

“I’m fine.”

It didn’t take long to reach the forest ahead. He hated to admit it, but Tina was right. The sea of trees enveloped them as they walked, a clear path barely discernible under the cover of snow below. As the sun continued to set and the orange light became stronger, the treetops looked to be bathed in pure gold. Even the snow beneath their feet would shine so brightly that it gave the impression that no footsteps were ever there. Tina was utterly fascinated by it all, her head tilted up the whole time without a care as to where she was stepping. To no one’s surprise but her own, she soon tripped on a raised branch but of course, Percival caught her arm before she fell. The pale skin on her cheeks reddened as she stood back up but he didn’t say a thing, as much as he wanted to. This was probably the first ‘fun’ thing she had done that weekend and he wasn’t going to spoil it for her. Not yet.

After cutting through the thick woods they reached a clearing, this one with the large frozen lake she spotted earlier. There were more woods surrounding all sides of the lake and Percival quickly made a mark on some of the surrounding trees so they knew which way to head back, just in case. When he finished, he found Tina sitting on what was left of a fallen tree that looked like it had been dead for weeks, watching the lake.

He sat beside her, steadying himself as to not break their makeshift bench. At least this one hadn’t been transfigured from a priceless artifact; _damn it_ he would not let that one go. He took a breath. The air was frigid, but still. A small bird sang in the distance before taking flight and leaving them in silence, to dwell in their own minds again. The sinking sun was about to disappear over the trees in the distance, casting a light that made the frozen lake appear like it was drenched in melted gold. Nothing stirred.

It was peaceful.

“You’ve never done this before?” Tina said, as if trying to hide the criticism from her voice.

“No, not here. Never occurred to me,” he said softly, rubbing his arms. Now that they had stopped moving and the adrenaline was gone, it was harder to ignore the cold. “It’s nice.”

He took a deep breath, letting the chilly air fill his lungs; the fresh scent of the pine trees surrounding them bringing a small smile to his lips. How long _had_ it been, really? How many years did he literally just apparate straight from his front door to Manhattan and back? Only taking undercover missions that involved the city? Too many years, he figured.

And he went from that, to a fucking briefcase, in suffocating darkness.

The tree branches around them rustled to life as a small gust passed through them and he shuddered again. The perfectly logical thing to do would be to transfigure himself a heavier coat or something; it’d be as easy as Tina transfiguring a piece of history into an ordinary chair. But, in a way, feeling the cold air enveloping him was refreshing. It reminded him he wasn’t trapped. He was free, and could do whatever he wanted. For once, he embraced the chill.

There was a rustle beside him, drawing him from his mind and he looked in time to see Tina removing her own heavy coat.

“No, Tina, I can’t poss-”

She ignored him, sliding over closer before draping the coat over both his shoulders and hers. This was highly inefficient; a warming charm would’ve done the trick just fine. Their combined girth was no match for the small coat, which stretched to its limit to keep them both warm, and then, without any warning, Tina moved close enough so her body was nearly pressed against his. He held his breath, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in.

Percival could feel his own face flushing and he closed his eyes, focusing immediately on counting his heartbeat in a feeble attempt to slow it down. He only ever got that close to a woman if he planned on sleeping with her – no exceptions. This was not good. He had already enjoyed her cleavage a little too much and now _this_. Instead of the pine trees, the only scent infiltrating his mind was her damn perfume again, the only feeling against his skin was the warmth of her body even in places she wasn’t touching. It did not take long for his mind to wander to where it shouldn’t. To where it wouldn’t be professional.

_Get a fucking grip, Percival._

He took another deep breath, biting his tongue. This was insanity. These were emotions that were not meant to be explored – not with her. This was not the time to lose his composure. He was still the Director of Magical Security and that was still his Assistant Director. Nothing more, nothing less.

This would end badly. It would end badly for _her_.

Another deep breath.

_But fuck_ , that perfume though, that damn that perfume! It had become such a sign of pure, unaltered joy to him since she rescued him; a sign of good things to come. It was addicting. It was… distracting.

How much longer would he have to endure before Tina grew bored and wanted to head back inside? She was usually so impatient, so rushed. Except when he wanted her to be, of fucking course. He could easily cut this short if he showed his own impatience with the situation, and with her. She’d relent. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten angry at her, or anyone, just to push them away. Hell, if there was an award for it, he would be a shoe-in for it.

Another deep breath, through his mouth this time.

He was so good at it that he, apparently, never even praised her. Even as he sat there in the freezing cold, replaying the years of memories in his head, he still couldn’t recall anything resembling outright praise. She was a good Auror, a good witch in general, and she should have known that – she shouldn’t need his doting. He glanced down at her through the corner of his eye and couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. She shouldn’t _need_ his encouragement, but she deserved it. She was the best in her class. She rescued him. And she was the only one person in his life who cared enough to volunteer for a weekend with him, and that person was also the same one sharing her only coat with him outside in the freezing weather.

This wouldn’t help him. Not one bit. But damn it. He had to.

“Tina.”

“Hm?”

He swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry for being difficult on you. You made a good potion.”

It was pitiful, but it was the most he could muster at that moment without letting the rest of his emotions spill out. He wasn’t quite ready for that yet and feared that she wasn’t either.

Tina looked floored, to say the least, as if it was the most positive thing Graves had said to her and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You did make me a better Auror,” she said, barely above a whisper. “You’re really not that difficult. Can’t say the same for the rest of the team though.”

It was impossible to subdue the smile that crept up on his face.

The shine from the sun was now nearly gone. Only faint shades of orange still poked out from the trees in the horizon, transitioning to a purplish hue and signaling the end of one more day. Tina stirred next to him, looking around at the wilderness.

“Have you ever been out on the ice before?”

“What?”

“Ice skating. Have you been ice skating?”

_Yes_ , he thought, _every year until I became an Auror_.

“And why would I do that?”

Tina suppressed a laugh and shrugged off her coat, leaving it with Percival. It was almost night and this witch suddenly had the idea to _ice skate_? Did she know how cold it was? He did not have the clothes, or the patience for this. But she waved her wand over her knee-high boots, causing thin metal blades to stick out and grip the snow as she walked. And without a word, just like that, she stepped onto the ice and glided in a circle. She did it with such ease, such grace, that he couldn’t keep his eyes off her slender form as it floated in front of him. Almost teasing him.

He stood and went to the edge of the lake, still watching her, still clinging to her coat with the perfume all over it. At this rate, he’d never get her scent off him.

In a flash, she was in front of him, holding out her right hand with an eager smile he’d never seen her wear in front of him before. It was warm, embracing; everything he wasn’t. And he knew, logically, that taking her hand right there was probably a bad idea. No, it was a terrible idea, one he shouldn’t indulge. Not for his sake, or for hers.

“Do you trust me?” She said softly, her hand still out. Her expression had softened and as he took in her perfume he wanted more than anything to say yes. He trusted her fine, but himself? Not a chance.

But it would feel so, _nice_ , for once. To indulge. Just a little.

A deep breath. Her perfume again. She would be the death of him.

“Five minutes, and we go back.” He said sternly, more to himself than to her. He would indulge this for a few minutes and then go back, have a cigarette, and read a nice non-fiction book for the rest of the evening. A bloody war novel, or a biography. He just needed to make it to Monday.

With a flick of his wand, he had blades on the bottom of his boots too – hopefully nothing that would damage them. It felt like an eternity, but he put his hand over hers, with all the care in the world. Even with the sun fading he could see her entire face brighten or that second.

The ice was more unstable than he’d remembered and he clutched her hand a little tighter. He would not fall; not in front of her. But damn if she wasn’t trying. She skated backwards, and he grabbed her other hand too, pulling himself closer to her and stiffening up immediately – in more ways than one.

“Relax, you’re ok. Bend your knees a little.”

He could tell that this was amusing her. This wasn’t his first rodeo though, and he would show her. Slowly, tentatively, he slipped his hands out of the warmth of hers, pushing off on the ice to her left. It felt a little shaky at first, but it was coming back to him piece by piece as he glided around, keeping his pace steady. He stuck his hands in his pockets and pushed off with his other foot, going in a full circle around her. She shivered a moment, but a part of him suspected it wasn’t because of the cold.

“I thought you ne-”

“Remember what I say about assumptions.” He reminded her with a sly grin, handing her back her coat.

She took it and responded with a similar smirk, speeding past him more aggressively than he expected. This shouldn’t have been news to him, Tina had never been a wallflower, but that _look_ she gave him, well, _damn_. It wasn’t just challenging him, it was _goading him on_. And the way she bit her lower lip again? _Fuck._ He was entranced by it. Before he knew it, he glided just a little harder, unable to keep his eyes off her figure as she rounded the small lake. Worse, she’d keep taking these little peeks over her shoulder to make sure he was still there, still chasing after her. It wasn’t subtle at all, and it didn’t seem like she wanted it to be subtle either.

This was _really_ not helping, but he couldn’t stop. As the sky started to fade to a darker shade of purple and it became just a little harder to see the details, he sped up, nearly catching up to her. He swore he could hear her laugh; a nervous, but excited laughter. It was infectious, and despite the rapidly dropping temperature he found his entire body warming up as they made their way through the lake, the passing branches and trees becoming familiar. How long had it even been already? Five minutes? _Who cares._

He was distracted, to say the least. Too distracted. Before he knew it she suddenly came to a stop in front of him and he panicked, trying to hit the brakes himself to avoid colliding into her. It all happened so quickly; he turned sideways to stop, but lost his footing and found himself falling back. His instinct took over and he immediately cast a cushioning charm to keep himself from getting hurt in the fall.

Without his wand.

_Oh no_ , he thought as his back bounced off the ice. _Oh fuck, not this again_. She couldn’t see this; she’d seen enough in the last day already. But it was too late. The pain shot right through his hand; the feeling of each individual bone breaking all too real for him again. And the mark; that fucking mark Grindelwald was so obsessed with now painted all over his hand again, something he tried so hard to hide from the rest of MACUSA, and had, until that moment.

“Fuck.” Percival growled through his teeth, barely feeling the ice on his back as the pain radiated down his wrist. He’d been so careful to avoid it the whole week. In a second, Tina was by his side, helping to drag him back to solid ground.

“Graves? What happened?” Tina asked, cautiously, steadying him.

“We need to get back to the house,” Percival struggled to say through gritted teeth as he fell on all fours, holding onto his right hand as if it were bleeding profusely. “Don’t get anyone.”

All nerve endings in that hand were on fire. The want – _need_ – to just cut his hand off nearly overtook his senses and if Tina somehow produced a sword for him he would’ve done it right there. But the world suddenly fell silent, the thumping of his heart the only sound echoing through his head. The feel of his hand being twisted and crumpled, bent in inhuman ways had him gasping for air, and suddenly he couldn’t see Tina anymore. He couldn’t see anything anymore. Only darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pushed the mild smuttiness to the next chapter, so hang on!


	7. Damn Good Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grindelwald was a jerk, Tina is a clutz, and Graves gets some quality time with himself that he desperately needs. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support! Will keep trying to push these out as fast as I can write 'em

_It had been dark for so long now. Hours. Days?_

_When his prison shook, he thought he was hallucinating. A delayed effect of the Cruciatus Curse, maybe, or his mind finally slipping from his feeble grasp._

_And then, suddenly, he was being pulled; sucked out of the darkness and into blinding light. He shut his eyes, almost wishing to have the darkness back. His ears rung. Something – someone – grabbed a fistful of his hair pulled him up by it, setting him on his knees. Paralyzing him there. The smell of alcohol was subtle, but after an eternity with nothing it was hard to miss. Firewhisky?_

_“Tell me something Percy,” Grindelwald’s familiar voice said. He strained his eyes, seeing the wizard sitting back on the old Victorian chair, blonde, but still in his clothes. Yet, not quite himself. Not completely. The desk was still there, as was the cabinet. He was still in his own office. “In your department, if you need to interrogate someone to get answers what do you do?”_

_Percival paused, still looking wildly in all directions, his survival instinct being kicked into overdrive. He was still alive, his hands were still broken, he was constrained from the neck down. His captor was possibly drunk and-_

_“Percy,” Grindelwald repeated, calmly, and Percival felt his head being forcibly turned to face him. “Please don’t-”_

_“Veritaserum Potion.” He answered quickly, his voice hoarse from the lack of use. The ragged thing didn’t even feel like it belonged to him._

_“Right. Now, I’m obviously skilled enough to brew Polyjuice Potion. Do you really think it would be that hard for me to brew up some Veritaserum Potion to use on you?”_

_He feigned disinterest in the question knowing full well where this was going. “No.”_

_“Then why do you think I chose to spend eight bloody hours cursing you to get what I wanted?”_

_Percival didn’t want to answer. It was widely known in his department that Grindelwald was such a cruel individual that he was kicked out of Durmstrang for his barbaric experiments on another student. Only Merlin knew what else he did with the rest of his time since then._

_“Because you enjoy this.”_

_The grin on Grindelwald’s face was immediate. “I enjoy seeing how far a mind can be twisted and pulled before it breaks – if it breaks at all. What it takes to break it. Can a man be driven to willingly do what goes against his moral code?”_

_“Yes.” Percival responded quickly, knowing how much it would throw him off._

_“Really? I did not know you had experience in these areas; Percival Graves you still surprise me.”_

_“Not all interrogations can be aided by the potion, I trust you know that,” he said, coughing. Too many words in a row for his dry throat. At least no blood that time. “On those times, we have to use other methods to get what we want. What we need.”_

_“Yes. You can be quite cruel, Percival, with your own liberal use of torture and even the death penalty.”_

_“I suppose this is karma, then.” He smiled, perhaps for the first time since his imprisonment began._

_Grindelwald did not share that smile, perhaps thinking about how karma would affect him following these acts. He crossed one leg over the other, waving one hand to bring a pack of cigarettes to him. It was Percival’s favorite vice, but something Grindelwald despised and could not understand, from the clear distaste on his face._

_As much as his captor hated the habit, the ashy aroma from that fresh-lit cigarette was heavenly. He guessed that a couple of days had passed without enjoying his old habit, but the addiction continued to be a painful constant, shaking him awake whenever he managed to drift off to sleep._

_“We are not so different, you and I,” Grindelwald started, blowing smoke into the ceiling. “What, with our methods and our skill.”_

_“I don’t disrespect our laws.”_

_“True, you do not,” he said, holding the cigarette between his fingers. Almost like he knew what he was doing. “You don’t even break the simplest rules.”_

_“I suppose I don’t.” Percival said, trying to figure out what he was talking about._

_“Even for your co-workers.”_

_“What are you talking about?”_

_“Tina Goldstein of course.”_

_He shouldn’t have been surprised that he would bring this up, given how his mind was practically an open book for Grindelwald. Still, hearing it out loud put him on edge and he couldn’t help but cringe._

_“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”_

_“Relevant? Percy, you’re attracted to the girl, and she to you. And you knew it.”_

_“And? I’ve got a decade on her.”_

_“But that isn’t why you didn’t pursue it. Sure, you may tell yourself that, but that isn’t the reason, is it?”_

_He swallowed hard. It was hard not to picture her smile whenever she ran into him in the hallway. Or how spirited she was in volunteering for any new tasks that the other Aurors weren’t keen on doing, or didn’t think were significant enough. Or even the way she’d put her hair up whenever he assigned her more paperwork than she liked. It was harder yet not to warm himself up with those thoughts; possibly the only positive emotions he had felt since his imprisonment began._

_“I could lose my job, as could she. Superiors cannot date subordinates; it’s strictly forbidden.”_

_“In other words, you couldn’t break the rules, so you gave up.”_

_“Yes.” He said through gritted teeth._

_“It was easier to let the attraction fade. To push her away. To give her reasons to hate you.”_

_Percival closed his eyes, hating the truth pushed against him._

_The memories flashed by him like a movie reel. The way he made her redo an entire ten-page report because of one typo. How he brought her to the verge of tears when she missed her mark on a training drill. His heart clenched. It was harsh even for him._

_But the alternative, well, it was equally as bad._

_It would have been nothing short of shameful for MACUSA’s own Head of Magical Law Enforcement to be caught in such a scandal; The New York Ghost would have had a field day with it. Seraphina would’ve had his head, and hers. It wasn’t nearly as bad as dating a no-maj, but in the eyes of the others around them, it would be blasphemy. Favoritism. Anything Tina had achieved would have been questioned and removed from her. So, he couldn’t, not for himself, not for her._

_“You didn’t even fight your own president on the poor girl’s demotion. You didn’t even agree with it.”_

_“That is not true.” He asserted, his voice rising for the first time in an eternity. He may have been pushing Tina away but he never wanted her to lose her job._

_“Oh please, Percy, you had some arguments with Picquery about it, but that was it. How hard did you fight, really?”_

_“If Picquery decided on it, there was nothing I could do. She outranks me, obviously.”_

_“So you gave up?”_

_Percival bit his tongue. The last time he talked to Picquery about it she had said the decision was final. That he was not to bring it up anymore. And he didn’t._

_Grindelwald clicked his tongue against his cheek, shaking his head at him as if he were the one at fault._

_“And to think of what could have been if these dreadful, overbearing rules weren’t in place.” Grindelwald mused, finishing his cigarette._

_“Are you trying to convert me Gellert?” Percival forced a chuckle. “You may have had more luck with that before the Cruciatus Curse.”_

_With his eyebrows raised, Grindelwald was taken aback by the casual use of his first name. It was nice to feel in control for once, no matter how petty._

_“I must admit, I did have hopes of recruiting you when I first read up on you and your family. After all, you were the perfect candidate. But after I learned about your little crush, well, let’s say I was the crushed one.”_

_“Is that all it took? My lusting after a co-worker?”_

_“No,” he said, standing up. “It’s your strict adherence to your own code – to the letter of the law. If you wouldn’t even break it for love, then what could I really offer you?”_

_He raised his wand again, but Percival knew what was coming. A chunk of his hair was quickly plucked for storage before his body levitated, floating over to his prison again. At that point he didn’t even flinch when Grindelwald collected his ‘ingredient’, after all, it was nothing compared to the hours of torture or the broken hands._

_The stench of his small prison was already burning against his skin before he was even lowered in and he wanted to beg to not be put there; to offer to cut his own hands off before being secluded for days on end again. But Grindelwald would relish in that, and worst of all, would do worse still. No, it was best to stay quiet and endure._

_Somehow, he still hoped someone would come. Someone would notice._

_“Here’s something to think about while you spend some time in there. She still thinks about you – us – quite a lot. I may bring her over for dinner one of these days.”_

_He was flushed with a sudden despair that he didn’t think he was capable of anymore. As the lid shut he had to keep reminding himself that it wasn’t true; that it was just another torturous trick that Grindelwald used to get under his skin. The alternative would just be unthinkable._

\--

He awoke panting, in a cold sweat. To light. To warmth; to fire. His right hand, now looking like it was bandaged by a St. Elmo’s student, still throbbed, but it was doable at least. He shifted against the hard leather couch, feeling a sharp pain on his shoulder and neck. Well, that would surely keep him down for a bit. That was new. Even with his jacket and vest taken off – without his permission - his shirt was still clinging to his torso and he felt like he was back in a summer stealth mission in Arizona. But the heat, he knew, was coming from within and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it until the curse had run its course. It was almost comical, really, to think he had been truly freed from that prison. He would never truly be free.

At least the living room was mildly chilly, with the decorated fireplace off. He looked around a moment, seeing a small gathering of multi-colored potions on the coffee table by his side, all arranged in some kind of order. The other couch, opposite his, had piles of opened books from his library and he knew immediately from the aged and complex bindings that they all had to do with dark magic. Hell, he’d even read some of them in his more studious years. Privately, of course.

This was Tina’s doing, surely. But where was she?

“Tina?” It came out weaker than he expected and he said it again, louder.

Heavy footsteps.

Another shot of pain through his wrist and he nearly growled, in anger rather than pain. This needed to stop.

Tina’s head poked out of the door by the fireplace and she immediately deflated, letting out the breath she had been holding in. She’d finally taken off the ghastly coat, giving him a great glimpse of the exposed skin from her low top and he cursed himself for enjoying it so much. Even from afar it was impossible to miss the sharp lines of her collarbone, how they curved and disappeared into her chest. The few buttons just looked so flimsy. How easy it would be…

_Stop._

“What happened?” They both asked in unison.

But they both knew who would answer first.

“I levitated you back here, after you passed out. And, well, I’ve been a little busy.” She said, pointing to the books and vials. She bent down and put another vial next to the ones already sitting in front of him, this one with a viscous black liquid.

“Right,” he whispered, trying to sit up. “Why does the rest of my body hurt?”

Her lips pursed immediately at his question. Interesting. Tina Goldstein could not lie her way out of a paper bag and a part of him relished in watching her try to come up with an excuse. This was probably her doing, then, albeit not intentionally. She didn’t apparate them; he protected the property personally against all apparation. So how would he get those injuries from being levitated?

He paused.

_Oh_.

Now she was gritting her teeth, nervously running her hand through her short hair, all but confirming his suspicion.

“You dropped me,” he said, point blank. She went to say something but stopped, her shoulders slumping. “How many times?”

“Two.” She said, trying to avert her gaze from his.

A part of him wanted to laugh and he laid his left arm over his head, trying to hide his amazement at the situation. It explained his bruises, at least. As the images of his body smashing onto the wood or concrete below flashed in his mind, he made a serious mental note to never forget to use his wand around her until this damn thing was cured. If it could be cured.

Another sudden shot of pain radiated through each nerve in that hand, but he did not flinch. Not in front of her – she had seen enough.

“Ok, just let me explain. See, I was trying to cast more protective charms at the same time and briefly – and I mean briefly – lost my concentration an-”

“It’s alright,” he whispered, raising his bandaged hand. “Are we safe?”

“Yes.”

“Did you cast-”

“All the same protective charms from yesterday, on the property, then the house. And even this section of the house. The doors and windows are locked, the curtains are up. We’re the only ones here.”

He let out a sigh of relief. That was the more important part, he supposed. His bruises would heal. His imagined embarrassment would, probably, heal.

“And you undressed me.”

“Just your waistcoat and jacket – which are hanging behind you. You were sweating whatever water was in your body, Graves, I had to do something to help.”

He took a deep breath, trying not to imagine what that looked like. If she had dropped him on a simple levitation spell, then…No. Hopefully she used magic. Yes, she must have used magic.

She came closer, pushing some of the vials aside to sit on the coffee table, in front of him.

“How’s your hand?”

“Better, at least,” he sighed, looking at the make-shift bandage as another shot of pain ran through it. He bit his tongue. “It’ll take a bit before there’s no more pain.”

“I brewed a couple of potions that could help.” She said, the wooden coffee table settling under her weight. The coffee table his grandfather brought from a Romanian Castle and damn it she was sitting on _that_ too. Did the woman not respect _anything_ historical?

“Let me guess,” he said, peeking over at the vials to avoid losing his temper. “Pain Relief Potion, Burning Bitteroot Balm, and, Girding Potion?”

“Yeah, actually,” she said, before taking a pause. “You’ve tried them before?”

“Yes. There isn’t much I haven’t tried.”

He had tried his luck with the Healers at the hospital. Then he came home and attempted any other potions himself. He even paid a fortune for the more complex ones; all completely worthless. All did nothing but remind him of his problem. His weakness. The longer he went without a cure, the more he became dependent on his wand, like a regular wizard. Like a pathetic mess of a wizard, really. Even his junior Aurors were less dependent on their wands than he was now. If they found out about this at the fucking hearing, it would certainly be over.

“I have something you probably haven’t tried,” she said, pulling him from the depths of his mind. “If you want to give it a try.”

He sat up, rubbing his bruises. What could she possibly be holding onto that none of his books had told him about?

She took the item out of her pocket, a strange flask he’d never seen before, with a thick green liquid inside. It certainly looked interesting. But safe?

“It’s a no-maj balm, I think,” she started. “I figured it can’t possibly make it worse.”

“Never say never,” he muttered, looking at this strange thing. A no-maj cure to a magical problem? It sounded insane. They had their own separate world, with separate physiology. It shouldn’t work. But as he still felt the uncomfortable throb of his hand under that pile of bandages Tina managed to wrap around him, he wanted to give it a chance. He wanted to believe. Fuck, he wanted to do magic without his damn wand again. “Fine.”

It was hard to watch her unwrap his hand. To see her joyful expression sour when she looked over the scars he had transfigured away every day since leaving the hospital. He couldn’t blame her; the thick, red lines running through his hands in the shape of scattered lightning were unsightly to say the least. All centered around that triangle and circle bullshit brand Grindelwald loved. That he loved so much he branded Percival with it, like fucking _cattle_. The Healers had to stun him that first day to keep him from ripping the skin off his hands, and now, as he watched Tina’s sorrowful gaze on his scars, he almost wished he had succeeded.

“So,” she started, opening up the bottle with a small pop. “What happened?”

Right. He never really answered her question.

And Tina Goldstein somehow never forgot to nag him about what he didn’t want to answer.

“He broke my hands, when he first captured me,” he said, finding it hard to look her into the eyes. “Which was smart of him.”

“I call it despicable,” she whispered, pouring the liquid over her own hand first. “If this hurts at any point tell me.”

“Well, he was both. What he didn’t count on was my utter boredom of sitting with nothing to do for days on end, and I started to figure out how to wield magic through this mess.”

Her fingers traced over his scars. Gentle. Careful. Almost as if she was trying to smudge them away too. It was simple, but the light caress was more than agreeable and he found himself without a breath under her touch.

“Is that how you sent the Patronus?” She asked, finally applying the cool liquid to his still burning skin. The contrast jolted him a bit, but he didn’t withdraw from her. Her touch held him like a magnet.

“Eventually. But he found out about my little practice sessions with wandless magic and re-broke my hands to make a point.”

She stopped, cradling his hand in hers.

“He broke your hands twice?”

Her index finger rubbed against the center of his palm, down to his wrist. The warming effect on his body was immediate, sending a different kind of shock through him. One that hardened him more than he expected.

“Yes,” He said, through his teeth, feeling the twisting pain in his hand as he said it. It did nothing to negate the effect of her touch. “He tried to scare me into not trying it anymore, but Grindelwald’s a smart man. He wouldn’t risk everything without a back-up plan. I don’t know how, but when he broke them again, he put _this_ , whatever it is on me. And now, well, you see what happens when I try to do any wandless magic.”

“That explains so much.” She whispered, her hands moving against his again. Her body leaned a little closer to him now, her knees pushing into his inner thigh. He instinctively opened his legs a little further at the soft touch, welcoming her into his space.

It had become too dangerous to breathe through his nose, at this proximity. He knew just what effect her perfume had on him and he couldn’t risk it; not at this distance.

He wanted to ask her what she meant. He wanted to ask her for a little more breathing space. But her hands, they were magic against his scars. He could only close his eyes as she pushed her fingers deep into his tissue, sending a light shock through his wrist and up his arm, numbing all pain and giving him life again. The twisting pain seemingly evaporated as she made her way through his fingertips, down his knuckles and down to the wrist. It was impossible to keep his heart from racing. The pressure, the pace, it was perfect. He had no idea she was this capable with _just_ her hands.

“Is this helping at all?” She muttered, pushing her thumb down his palm, up to his fingers, and he had to fight himself not to roll his eyes back.

“A little.” He gasped, opening his eyes to find hers still on his hands.

“Do you want me to keep going? I still have more of this thing.”

_Yes, for fuck’s sake_ , he thought hard, his hand still resting in hers. His breathing had quickened but not because of the pain.

_Bad. Idea._

“I think I’m fine.” It was all he could say, terrified of what else he would feel if she kept going.

“That’s great! I have to tell my sister that this thing actually works.”

He was so entranced by her hands, he never even thought to ask about why her sister would have a no-maj balm. Probably chance, or whatever. He did not care.

“What is it?”

“No clue. Almond something, I think.”

“Never heard of it.” Percival stabilized his breath again, his hands still tingling with the ghost of Tina’s touch. If her hands were this addictive on his own, imagine elsewhere in his body. Imagine…

_Bad. Idea._

He covered his lap with his left hand, knowing the reaction that his body was having that he could not prevent.

Percival found himself sitting upright against that old couch, trying to appear composed and in control. But it couldn’t be farther from where his mind was. Her hands, Merlin, her hands! In the past twenty-four hours, her damn touch was electric against his skin and he kept finding himself wanting more of it. Sure, he’d been a little attracted to her before, but this, this was madness. It was insanity. It was, unfortunately, lust.

Percival really shouldn’t have been surprised, after all, he hadn’t done anything sexual since before his capture. It was embarrassing to think about, but it had probably been at least a year since he’d been with a woman. And how long without him even doing anything himself? Months? That probably explained it. That it was just pent up energy that he needed to release. While Tina was someone he liked and appreciated and valued, she was probably just at the wrong place at the wrong time, and as soon as he took care of himself he’d be much clearer. There was no way this was specific to her. No, if he took care of himself, the feelings would be gone. They’d both be able to go back to their normal lives.

She was still sitting in front of him. Too close. Her legs still pressing against his inner thighs.

It’d be so easy to just lean in and…

_BAD. IDEA._

“I should go to bed,” he asserted, pushing away from her without another look. “Long day. With the skating, and the _dropping_.” He muttered.

For once, he was thankful at how naturally cold the house was kept. His blood was boiling with every step, his entire body still tingling with the effects of her touch, but the chill in the air calmed him down enough to keep moving and not go back there, to her. It didn’t help that she had removed his pain, and was still somehow putting up with all his bullshit. No, it just made him stiffen even more, much to his chagrin.

Now finally in the privacy of his own room he sat back on the bed. Even without her presence, in absolute quiet, he could still feel himself throbbing against the thick fabric of his pants. There was no way around this. He grazed his hand against his length, feeling just how hard he was, and, for once, he let himself enjoy the sensation. No, there was no number of cigarettes or cold showers would make it go away and frankly, he didn’t want to go that route anyway. He’d endured enough that day that damn it, he deserved this.

It was such a relief to finally free himself from the tight confines of his pants that he spread his legs a little further. Even more freedom. He pushed the taut skin slowly, from the base all the way up to tip, savoring every second of that first stroke. It was impossible not to delight in it, and he wondered why he hadn’t done this sooner, or more often. This was addicting. This would destroy him.

His mind immediately went back to Tina and he could almost feel her hands over him, rubbing his cock the same way she did his hands. Putting on just enough pressure to make her presence felt, to give him that spark of life. Intoxicating. _Perfect._ But Percival’s imagination was craftier than most would imagine and it didn’t take long for him to picture her kneeling right there, her lips wrapped around him, the fragments of her lipstick making a mess along the shaft as she took the whole thing in, all at once. She was giving him that same defying gaze from the lake, just daring him to come all over her. Oh, he would. He felt a hiss escape his lips at the imagery and he strengthened his grip, pushing his hips against his own strokes. It didn’t take long for his mind to start blanking, focusing only on the intensity that was building, ready to burst.

But not yet. Not so quickly. He switched his thoughts, now seeing her face down on his bed, with him plunging into her as she screamed, begging him for more. Her breasts shook with each hungry thrust, maddening Percival even more, his grip bruising her pale skin as he did what he wanted with her. Her uncontrolled moans shook the house almost as much as the bed frame, which pounded against the wall as he lost control. It was all going so fast, with such ferocity. With a groan of his own he exploded, letting the blistering orgasm spread through his body.

Percival wasn’t sure how long he rested there, his breath still sharp. The overwhelming lust had left him, instead scattered on the fabric of his shirt. But what replaced these primal thoughts troubled him. Tina was still there, smiling, caring, giving him her damn coat. Sitting on his expensive furniture. She was wearing more clothes than in his previous imagination, but the idea of her presence warmed him; soothed him. Fuck.

This had gone far enough. He had indulged enough.

Yet there was so little he could do. He’d just have to distract himself the old-fashioned way, and shift his focus back to work where it should have been in the first place. _No distractions, no fuss_ , he thought as he slipped on his black pajamas, lighting up a quick cigarette for old time’s sake. Grindelwald still had some followers causing trouble on top of his regular case work; he needed to focus on that the next day, and that’s what he would do, to hell with what Seraphina instructed. At this point, working would do no more damage to him than staying in the same room with that woman. He breathed in more of the cigarette, feeling his nerves calm. But not his affection towards her.

He finally slipped into bed, taking a sip from his dreamless sleep potion before resigning himself to only think about work.

As he felt himself drifting off, a hard knock on the door shook him awake and had him grabbing for his wand. It almost felt like a dream.

“Graves? Are you still awake?”

“Yes,” he lied. He didn’t know why he lied. “Why?”

“Can you open the door?”

He groaned, slipping off the heavy sheets. That damn woman; why could she not leave him alone? _This is not helping_ , he almost said out loud as he unlocked his door. The strong smell of fresh apples and cinnamon filled the room as he swung it open and it was easy to see why – with a proud smile stood Tina Goldstein, holding a single plump slice of apple pie.

She was still wearing that provocative top.

“I made a lot more than I needed, thought I’d bring you a slice in case you were hungry. It’s my sister’s recipe; she’s the cook in the family.” Tina rambled, handing him the plate. He hated to admit it but he was starting to enjoy her rambling.

Speechless, he took it, trying to suppress the rumble in his stomach. He may have been set on going to sleep but he hadn’t eaten anything for hours and his body knew it. If he wanted to push her away, this was the time to scold her, to get angry, to criticize. He tried to muster that energy back, but just couldn’t do it. Old Percival would’ve easily done it, after all, he had done it a million times before. But to Tina, standing there with concern in her eyes? The only person who still somehow gave a damn about him? He just couldn’t.

“Thank you.” He mustered, holding the plate with both hands.

“You’re welcome. Goodnight, Graves.”

Without any further words, she turned and made her way towards her room. He was still standing there holding the pie for too long after she had left his field of view and he couldn’t understand why. Had he been so tortured that a mere sign of kindness made him into a bumbling buffoon? God, he hoped not, or he would certainly have to resign his post. The Director of Magical Security needed to be logical, strong, and unmoving. If Percival couldn’t even bring himself to reject a girl over pie, then what else could he not do anymore?

His stomach growled again and he took a bite out of the pie, hoping to satisfy another primal urge he couldn’t wave away with a wand. With a sigh, he closed his eyes. It was damn good pie.


	8. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all things can be unsaid.

“Did he like the pie?”

Queenie yawned, her eyes struggling to stay open as she leaned heavily on their apartment’s dining room table. Even about to go to bed, her curls were intact, ready to dazzle.

“I don’t know, sis, I didn’t stand and watch him eat it,” Tina responded into the mirror, taking one last bite out of the pie. “But it came out good. I like it.”

“Then he probably does, too. If you made it with love, he felt it.”

Love? Hah! Not even close. If she had to pinpoint an emotion she had while she made that pie, then it would have been made with nothing but anxiety and fear. Which, according to Queenie, meant it probably tasted terrible to him; to any human. Though maybe she was being a bit harsh on herself, she was, after all, worried about him. Worried _for_ him. As much as she hated to admit it, she did care about him more than she probably should; more than an employee should care about a boss. Graves was more than just a boss, though. Still though, love? That carried too much of a weight.

“I think I’m going to go to bed. He’ll probably be up early to work tomorrow.”

“Alrighty. I won’t get in between you two.”

Tina couldn’t help but smile. Her and Graves, together, as a couple. A pipe dream, maybe, if that. She didn’t want her sister suddenly giving her ideas where nothing would be possible, but it felt so different for once, so _happy_. She couldn’t pinpoint an idea or even a memory, but something about imagining the two of them together, doing something as banal as working together on that writing desk in his library, just warmed her to the core. It gave her hope. But hope for what?

It was stupid. Just another one of her silly fantasies, anyway. She had them before, and she pushed them away with ease. She'd have to do the same again.

But was it as far-fetched as she was making it out to be? She thought back to levitating him into the living room and shuddered, stifling a laugh. If only Graves had heard the real reason why she had dropped him the second time. Thankfully, he didn’t think to ask for each occurrence. It's not like he would have believed her, for one, and then even if he did he would have obliviated her so quickly she wouldn’t even know she could do magic.

It was true that while casting a major protective ward her attention _may have_ shifted and he fell on the wooden steps. Noticing her mistake, she dutifully and efficiently levitated him again, to the inside of the house, but noticed his wand slipping out of his pocket. She was just trying to help. It wasn’t done out of any bad intentions; she only went to put her hand over it before it could fall out but _Mercy Lewis, what she grabbed had not been his wand_. But no, that wasn’t the worst of it, oh no. Before she could even realize what she had done and withdraw her hand, he moaned out her name. He didn’t speak it; he _moaned_ it out, slowly, in a huskier tone she’d never heard, chilling her to her core.

The shock was too much. She dropped him, and couldn’t move herself for what felt like hours.

There was no way he had been awake. The fall certainly would have affected him, and if it didn’t then her accidental grab would have yielded something much angrier than a moan. No, he was out cold. And she would not be the one to tell him, even under the Cruciatus Curse. That single event shook her so badly she used only her wand to take his jacket and waistcoat off, terrified of what else she could accidentally do. And then, as promptly as she could, she removed herself from his presence. At least, until he woke up.

She stood up, her mind quickly replaying all the events of the day. How warm his body felt against hers at the lake; how sincere his apology and his compliment felt slipping off his tongue. And then, how his eyes changed to reflect a hunger she’d never seen him in before when they were skating on the ice. It all started out so innocently, as simple fun, but when she started that chase, something inside her just flipped and she suspected it did for him too. In a matter of seconds, she went from casual enjoyment to feeling her heart pounding against her chest as he sped after her on the ice, her body aching for him to catch up, to catch _her_.

All silliness. Even if Graves fancied her, she knew he would never chance it. His only mistress was his work – everyone knew it. And it should have been hers, too.

Tina cleaned up the living room, taking the books up to her room for some more light reading. _Kill Them Twice_ was her best bet out of the bunch, and if she could just reduce the pain on his hands enough for him to use wandless magic, then that would count as a win in her books. There was no way anyone at MACUSA could hear about this problem, not before the hearing. Her best bet was to cure it, but barring that, if she could find a way to treat it efficiently, then that would do too.

It was impossible not to stop by his room. The ornate wooden door was shut, but she knew damn well it wasn’t the only barrier to going in and checking on him. She tentatively put her hand on the rounded doorknob. It was cold to the touch and she couldn’t help but shiver.

_What are you doing, Tina?_

She shook her head, pulling back. If Graves knew she was even thinking of going into his room, unwelcomed and uninvited, he would’ve thrown her across the hall – and rightfully so. But something just drew her to him, had her imagining how nice it would be to share that warm bed on a chilly, snowy evening. To feel his arm wrap around her stomach and pull her close, his lips pressing against the back of her neck, to feel his _wand_ against her backside…

How unladylike. If her mother had lived to see her having these thoughts about her older boss she would never have heard the end of it. Not just her older boss, but a man she was helping to recover from a traumatic event no less. No, it would not do.

There was no reason to even be attracted to him, anyway. He was a brusque man; unfriendly and unmoving. Serious. But not unkind. And not a bad man, just one who believed in the laws he had to uphold. Burdened, for certain, the weight on his shoulders probably causing some of the unfriendliness. But he was a good boss, who cared about her career. Who valued her as an Auror. As a person.

Tina sighed. She couldn’t even try to talk her way out of liking him. But she could talk herself into walking away.

She sat in bed, with the book on her lap for most of the night.

When she fell asleep, the bookmark was still on Chapter 2.

\--

By the time Tina finally awoke the next day, it was nearly noon. Graves’ bedroom door was wide open, his bed neatly made with no remnants of his cologne anywhere near it, or down any hall she walked down. When she entered the kitchen, she found a single pot of coffee left on the counter, cold to the touch. Whatever he did, he must have woken up much earlier than she had and had already gotten to work. She was late.

But it didn’t seem to matter.

_Reviewing memories, please do not disturb._

_PG_

The note was posted on the door to his library and she couldn’t help the sting to her chest.

He was shutting her out.

It was also exactly what Picquery told him not to do. She told him not to ignore Tina, not to leave her behind. She had full authority to knock on that door and he would have no right to be upset. Those were the rules he agreed to.

But she wouldn’t be doing it out of a sense of rules. No, if she cared so much about Picquery’s rules she would have sent an owl to her when Graves’ hand started hurting out of nowhere, or when she found out he couldn’t do wandless magic. A curse that left her right hand man unable to protect her would have been the exact thing the President would have liked to know, yet Tina did not intend to say a word about it. Not to her, not to anyone.

And so, no owls got sent, and nothing was written down. It never happened.

Because deep down, while Tina cared about the rules and about her job, she found herself caring about the well-being of the man on the other side of that door a little more. Because, deep down, if Tina was to barge through that door, it would be to see him again.

In the end, she wasn’t going to interrupt him, and she certainly wasn’t going to report him. In the end, she got her book, made her way to the kitchen where he’d have to go to at some point for drinks or a snack, and she read.

Queenie told her to be patient. She would.

\--

Percival didn’t even own a pensieve.

Tina wouldn’t have noticed of course, not the keenest on small details, and even if she had she would have given him the benefit of the doubt. Thus, it was the perfect lie.

He’d heard her come down the stairs. He heard her come up to the door, how she seemed to stand there for a painfully long time. But Percival knew who he was dealing with, and already had an entire speech prepared for her interruption, memorized down to the dramatic pauses. Yet, there was silence. Knowing her, she was probably still deciding on whether she would knock regardless, and he couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when he finally heard her footsteps fading in the distance. Such a waste of a speech, all because Tina Goldstein was walking away without a fight; it was indeed a brand-new day.

He still half expected to suddenly hear her come back. Or to try to come through the window. Hell, he would not have put it past her to set the house on fire to get his attention.

But no, there was nothing but silence. He would finally be able to get through the backlog of casework he’d been trying to eradicate since he got back to the office. As if it would even matter in the end. The hearing was coming along the corner, a hearing that he suspected was more a formality than an actual chance to keep his job, and he was no more prepared than he had been on Friday. It was all useless, all for naught. Even Tina, bless her, couldn’t destroy his demons in a weekend, though she did do a number on them. And really… it’s not like her presence alone hadn’t helped.

Silence.

The distant chimes of the grandfather clock made up the only sound to occasionally reach him, reminding him of the passing hours.

The ordinary wooden chair she had transfigured still sat there by his side, empty. He hadn’t transfigured it back yet, and he didn’t know why.

The clock chimed again. Another hour gone.

Still no Tina.

As each hour of no interruptions came and went, he didn’t feel relief.

Just a pang of disappointment.

\--

By the time Tina got through the last sentence of that tome, the sun had set and it was nearly dinner time.

She still hadn’t found a solution to his hands.

He hadn’t come out of the library once.

There wasn’t even any sunlight left.

She wanted to be patient, she really did. It had worked the day before, for the most part, so she knew it was effective. But now, as she looked out the window to see nothing but a faint half-moon in the distance, knowing his hearing was coming at any moment and feeling like she had wasted the day, it was hard to keep her composure. Patience, in theory, was nice but it had to come to a halt at some point. Actions had to be taken.

As much as she wanted to, she still could not go and knock on that door though. But she needed to do something, to move, to feel like she made a difference, no matter how little.

Dinner.

She would make dinner.

There still wasn’t much to work with in the pantry, but it would have to do. Rice, beans, and…cured meats? It would have to do. She watched as the ingredients cooked, listening for him, for any sign of him.

Luckily, she would not have to wait long, for the food or for him.

“Good evening,” his voice sounded from the door, cool, in control. This time, Tina did not jump. “Just thought I’d get something to drink.”

He kept his eyes on hers and she could’ve sworn she saw relief in them. Maybe even a hint of happiness.

No, ridiculous. Graves? Happy?

“Evening,” Tina responded, trying her hardest not to look as happy as she felt at seeing his figure coming towards her. He sported a suit she hadn’t seen before; black, fitted, the jacket shorter than usual with blue accents to match his blue tie. “I made some dinner.”

She floated the plates over to the table, still sizzling.

At least this time her blouse was a little more conservative; his eyes stayed on hers, as far as she could tell.

“No, it’s alright, I’ll take it to go. Thank you.”

Tina frowned, unable to hide her dissatisfaction. They hadn’t seen each other all day and he already wanted to leave.

_He’s pushing you away, silly._

“Can’t you stay? I figured we could talk a little about the hearing.”

“We don’t even know when it is.” He said, his expression souring at the mere mention of it.

“Which means it could be tomorrow.”

“No, they have to give at least twenty-four-hour notice. The earliest is Tuesday.”

“Which is still less than two days away,” Tina said, trying not to sound as frustrated as she felt. “I was thinking about it and I had some ideas-”

“Tina, you don’t have to do this.” His tone was soft, but patronizing.

“I’m not doing it because I have to,” she said, sitting in front of her plate. “I _want_ to help and you know this.”

“There’s nothing either of us can do about it. You can’t ‘cure’ me in a weekend – no one can,” He walked over to the table but picked up his plate and silverware, turning to walk away. “It was a nice gesture, but just that.”

“Please don’t go,” she stood, scared. She didn’t want to lose him. “Can we just talk? Please?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just an unfortunate situation.”

“So, you’re just going to give up? Just like that?”

“It was over from the start, Tina, this isn’t going to be a fair hearing. You know that. As far as we both know I got canned on Friday.”

“No,” she said, feeling a ball in her throat. “It’s not over. I know we can win this, _just please sit down_.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Panic. She couldn’t let him walk away. Without thinking, she shut and locked the door of the kitchen before he could get through, her heart pounding in her ears as the loud boom echoed through the kitchen. Her hands shook. Her entire body shook. But Graves did not move.

“Open the door.” He said, quiet but stern.

“No.”

“Tina. This is an order. Open the door.”

“Why won’t you eat with me?” Tina cried out, still holding onto her wand for dear life.

Graves gave her a look that chilled her to the bone. She’d seen him angry before. She’d seen him sentence terrible men to death, had seen him torture people for information. At no point, ever, had he looked at those men the same way he just did her.

He turned and walked back to the table, dropping the plate with such ferocity that its contents nearly flew out, the loud bang the only sound in the otherwise silent room. He sat with the same lack of decorum, picking up the silver fork with his right hand. There were no scars anymore – probably from transfiguration – but she knew the damage was still there, hiding below. No amount of a poker-face would ever take away the remnants of his pain and suffering just underneath the surface.

And then, he started eating, his cold eyes on hers. His fork impaled the piece of meat in front of him, scraping the plate underneath. He still stared daggers into her and she still had not sat back down. He pulled the fork up, slowly. The whole thing shook violently, the meat nearly falling back down to the plate. At first Tina thought it was just because of his anger, that he was so riled up that his whole body shook. But no other body part moved, only the hand holding the fork, each attempt at his mouth shaking harder and harder, with more food falling back to the plate uneaten. Each time the food fell, his face darkened, the frustration growing and his calm demeanor failing as his face flushed.

He was breaking, in front of her, and there was nothing she could do.

“Permanent nerve damage, from the lack of care to the broken bones.” He muttered, still burning a hole through her with a single stare.

She should have known; should have figured it out. But how? When he wrote, his hand never shook, or even when he wielded his wand. How was she supposed to know?

“Graves, I’m sorry-”

“Aren’t you happy, Tina? Isn’t this what you wanted?” He said each word slowly, clearly.

“I didn’t know.”

“ _Of course_ , you didn’t know.”

It stung.

“The entire fucking department,” he said, almost to himself, his voice steady but the anger and hatred fortifying each syllable. “No one knew. No one.”

Tina froze. This was the first time he ever acknowledged their collective failure in noticing Grindelwald, in failing to find him. It was exactly as terrifying as Tina thought it would be and she couldn’t bear to say anything as he struggled to eat, each forkful of food losing half its contents before making its way to him. It was hard to watch but she couldn't keep her eyes off him.

“But you know what the nastiest part is? I _really_ thought someone would have caught on. Each day I told myself it would happen. All for some Brit, who never even met me, to find out – to do what none of you did. Incredible.”

His voice had cracked. He tore his gaze from her.

“Graves, I’m sorry, we are all sorry.” She said, her eyes starting to blur. She knew that this moment would be bad, but she never predicted it would be this painful. It wasn’t just hearing his pained words, how even his voice seemed to crack with each word. She also had to watch him struggle with his hand, had to watch the direct consequence of their failure. He would never be the same again, because they didn't notice, _because she didn't notice._

“Sorry? Will sorry fix _this_?” He growled, dropping the fork down on the plate.

“Please don’t.” She begged, trying to swallow down the guilt that pushed against her throat.

“What? Is the truth hard to handle Tina? Are these scars?”

“I blame myself enough, Graves!”

He shook his head.

“You really thought he was me, didn’t you, Tina?”

“I should have known – we all should ha-”

“ _Didn’t you_?” He demanded, standing, his desperate eyes begging for her to speak. There was so much pain in those furrowed brows, so much anger. She didn't want to answer.

“Yes,” she whispered, feeling the tears escape. “Yes.”

He ran his hands through his hair, pulling at them. The gesture did more to mess up his appearance than to clean it up, sending the thin hairs sideways and even down his forehead.

“Well you’re in good company,” he muttered. “No one cared.”

“I cared.” She asserted, angry he would even think that of her. After all she had done.

“Lot of good you did, sitting at the Wand Permit Office.”

A beat.

Tina had been about to speak but stopped completely, the words caught in her throat. It was too much. She could understand his frustration; his agony. She could feel his pain. But this... Now she knew how betrayal felt.

Graves, noting the sudden silence, stopped too, his expression suddenly darkening as he realized what he had just said.

But it was too late.

“Tina, that’s not what I meant, I-”

“Stop.” She growled, the tears flowing down her cheeks. She had tried to hard to keep them from coming through, but she failed.

“I only meant-”

“Shush,” she said, trying to swallow the cry in her throat. “You’re right. We should have noticed, and you know why? Because even _he_ would’ve never said something like that.”

The second the words left her lips she regretted them - they weren't true. It was just anger. Hurt. She knew she had just dealt a killing blow and immediately wanted to apologize, but it was also too late. It was done.

But... it worked. It shut him up. With the shock plastered on his face, he slumped back against the chair.

The hurt was worse than anything she’d ever imagined. She walked away from him, clutching her wand, ready to stupefy him into next week if he tried coming so much as near her. She did so much for him over the past couple of days, gave so much of herself to someone who she wasn’t even committed to. And for what? For him to push her away? He didn’t even see her as his equal; as anything close. And she actually let herself believe, even for a moment, that he _cared_ , that something could have happened. Foolish. Stupid. She had no one to blame but herself. And after what she said to him? He would never want to speak to her again anyway.

But there would be no time to cry, to let the full effect of the emotions swoop her away.

As she walked outside in the snow, she felt her skin burn – right by her thigh. She immediately reached into her pocket, the burning metal coin cooling at her touch. Seraphina's Dragot.

Major Investigations Department.

It was an emergency.

She swallowed her tears. Closed her eyes. This was not the time.

She apparated to MACUSA as soon as she could. At least at work there was nothing further he could say. She could work in peace, as could he. Away from each other.

The doorman took one look at her grim expression and allowed her through the correct entrance. The inside was, for the most part, deserted, with only a few Aurors hastily walking by. Before she could go up the large staircase, a large man Tina knew as Gino stopped them, holding up his wand. Gino was one of the minor security officers, this time tasked with reviewing everyone who entered the building. He was a large man of Italian descent; twice the size of Jacob, with slicked back chestnut hair that he seemed to take very good care of.

“Hold on there, Ms. Goldstein, security protocol,” he said before a near transparent beam of light emerged from his wand. She’d almost forgotten about _Revelio_. “How’s your weekend?”

“Fine,” Tina said, wiping away any tears she had left on her cheeks as the spell hit her, to no effect. “All quiet here, Gino?”

“All quiet.” He said with a smile.

She flashed him the best smile she could, given the circumstances, and made her way to the elevator.

“Sorry Mr. Graves, but it’s protocol.” Gino said, from behind her and she couldn’t help but turn.

By the door was a visibly terrified Graves - hair still a mess - his hands stuffed in his pocket as if his life depended on it. He tried to reason with Gino, but the security was having none of it. No one could barter with Gino. A part of her wanted to just watch him fall apart. See him be punished. But, if his hands got revealed, it could ruin him. It could ruin his hearing and no matter how defeated he was about it, she still wasn’t.

She sighed. He didn’t deserve what she was about to do.

“Gino,” she said, putting on her fake smile again. “Did you see the Finches game this weekend?”

With Gino distracted she quickly flicked her wand in Graves’ direction, aiming for his hands. She saw the spell hit its target and in a split-second Graves had a pair of black leather gloves snug around his hands. They were an old pair of hers, and she was surprised they fit at all. At least _Revelio_ wouldn't give that away, as they were her actual clothes.

“I didn’t even know there was a game, Ms. Goldstein.”

“Ah, must be next weekend then, my mistake. Well, I’ll leave you to Mr. Graves then.”

Before Gino could go back to casting the charm on Graves, she was already at the elevator with Red.

He greeted her, immediately tapping the button before the location even finished leaving her lips. It was nice not to have him question her trip to that destination anymore, though she never got to revel in that feeling, not under the current pain. When she arrived she ran out the door, the hallway eerily silent.

“We will do what we can here, Minister. Tell me if your team finds anything.” Seraphina could be heard saying into a face in the fireplace that Tina immediately recognized as the British Minister of Magic.

The room, or, the bullpen as some of the Aurors liked to call it was empty except for the President, who turned to face Tina as the Minister’s face disappeared from the fire. She was pale, and Tina couldn’t remember the last time she looked so troubled.

“Goldstein,” she nodded. “Where is Graves?”

“Here.” He answered as he walked in the room, saving Tina from having to make up any excuses. His breathing was heavy, his hair a frazzled mess and the black gloves still on his hand.

“Good. I’m sorry to cut your weekend short, but it is an emergency,” Seraphina started, straightening her posture. “The ship that was supposed to take Grindelwald to London just docked at their port. Grindelwald and our Aurors are nowhere to be found.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The night is always darkest before the dawn. Have faith!


	9. The Things I Do for Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival and Tina must put aside their differences to find Grindelwald. But what if it's too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> Warning: Graphic depiction of death towards the middle.

The halls of the Major Investigations Department bustled as if it were a plain Monday morning. The news was hard to digest but it was harder yet not to dwell on the flurry of emotions that resurfaced as a small group of Aurors moved around him.

The moment Picquery had told him about the extradition, he just _knew_ there was something rotten there. Why would he not have to answer to his crimes in America? He caused mayhem, broke laws, and got people killed - nearly got Tina killed. It made no fucking sense. And now, he was loose somewhere, with potentially innocent Aurors dead. There had to have been a traitor in their midst, and when Percival caught the son of a bitch, no one at MACUSA would protect them from his wrath. It was bad enough that Grindelwald tortured him, but the idea that there were others who knew of this constant pain, and did nothing but aid the maniac? No, that person better fucking run far, far away from him or what he would do to them would make medieval torture seem relaxing.

The heat of his anger was overwhelming. He removed his jacket, choosing to roll up his sleeves to his elbows, the chill in the air relaxing him a little. He pulled off the tight gloves – the ones Tina used to save him from embarrassment – but instead of giving it back, he just tucked it into the pocket of his jacket as he performed a quick Transfiguration charm to hide the scars. She still hadn’t said a word to him. He could not blame her.

As he hung the jacket on the chair in front of him, he looked up in time to see Tina’s eyes on his. Solemn. Disappointed. Still puffy and red. It was the first time since their spat at the kitchen that they had locked eyes and it was exactly as painful as he feared it would be. In his rage; his _stupid, adolescent, misplaced rage_ he lashed out against the one person who cared about him - and the only person in this damn room he cared about. And now, as she stared him down, he wanted nothing more than to silence the room and _beg_ for her forgiveness, to let her know exactly how sorry he was for all he said. Even in front of all the Aurors – he did not care about how weak or pathetic it would look. He just needed her to know, needed her to…

She tore her gaze from his, turning her attention to the map in front of her.

Too late. His chest twisted in a knot; the pain worse than torture, than having his hands broken.

Deep breaths. The homicidal maniac responsible for all this was on the loose and it was up to him and the team in front of him to figure it out. He’d have to wait to beat himself up over this some other time.

“There’s always the chance that he did make it to England,” Tamara Patterson chided in the crowded room, a brown skinned witch that had been with them for eight years. She had been the first to arrive and sat opposite Tina on the large wooden table at the center of the room. “He could have incapacitated Jauncey and Lopez in transit and then apparated somewhere in England when the ship was close enough.”

“Yes, but we can’t be certain. We need solid proof he even left New York. Did anyone see them board the ship?” Tina responded, looking at the map between New York and London, marking where it would have been possible for him to safely apparate and to what location. There were way too many marks on that map; too many possibilities.

“Solid proof is impossible,” DeSoto added, timidly. The young, eager kid that Tina had always seen working long hours just barely made the cut for this mission and he was not taking it lightly. The whole room turned to look at him. “If he incapacitated the Aurors inside the ship – before it left - he could just apparate here in New York and no one would know. Right now it’s impossible to know which continent he could be in.”

“But why come back here?” Patterson noted. “It’s the place his plan was revealed, where we know the most about him, where we all want to kill him for what he did to Mr. Graves.”

_Because he didn’t finish the job with me_ , Percival thought, tensing immediately.

The others, thankfully, did not notice.

“Because no one would expect him to.” Tina said softly.

They all fell silent. She understood.

“I think the bigger question is, where are our Aurors?” Percival asked almost to himself, crossing his arms in front of him. Grindelwald’s motivations were moot to him at this point and he was more worried about the idea of one or both of those Aurors being a traitor.

“He probably just killed them first chance he got. Wouldn’t put it past the lunatic.” Theodore Smith perked up, scribbling in his notebook. The blonde, long-haired man always had an air of superiority, but Percival would have fun wiping that away. After a recent promotion to a Senior Auror, Smith was eager to make a mark. But he had been promoted under Grindelwald and it took a lot of convincing for Percival not to immediately demote him when he returned to the office. It was suspicious. Why would Grindelwald promote him if not because he saw potential to use him in his cause? It was too strange.

“Brilliant, Smith, because he’s crazy we just take the easiest option,” Percival said with a sigh. Smith looked back down at his papers, his cheeks flushed. “No, Grindelwald’s not like that. He doesn’t resort to murder that quickly.”

“Have the Brits found anything in the ship? Any sign of them?” Patterson asked.

“No, not that we know of. They’re questioning all the no-maj on the ship too, to see if they were confunded or obliviated,” Tina said, going through the latest transcripts they had with the Aurors from the Ministry of Magic. “They want us to take action here. I think they suspect he never left America.”

“There isn’t much to go on,” DeSoto muttered, shuffling through the papers in his pile. “Unless we go to their apartments, search for clues.”

“Clues of what?” Patterson asked, offended. “Are you suggesting they were behind this? Jauncey I'd believe, but not Lopez.”

“I don’t know, but we have nothing else to go on. It’s a start.” DeSoto suggested.

“Let’s do it,” Tina said. Percival knew she was eager to take action, but even this seemed rushed. “We can split into two teams to cover more ground.”

“Except it’s more dangerous.” Percival noted, a little annoyed.

Splitting up. It was not the usual course of action, but he suspected she suggested it as a way to stay away from him.

“But it allows us to avoid suspicion from the no-maj neighbors. If all of us go in, it’ll look more suspicious than if there’s only two.” DeSoto noted.

“Exactly.” Tina responded, sharply.

He took a deep breath. He didn’t like it, but she clearly did not want to be around him and he was scared of what else he would do or say if he was around her. He hated to admit it, but both of them did need a little space.

“Fine.” Percival growled, taking a deep breath.

“Sir, can I go to Jauncey’s apartment?” Patterson asked, raising her hand. From what he'd seen, she did not get along well with Jauncey at all and if he sent her to his apartment, and it was revealed he was a traitor, then she may just kill him. She was just a little bit too eager, and while he didn't love Jauncey himself, he knew not to cross the line. Patterson? Maybe not so much; she and Lopez were hotheads.

“No, I’ll go with you to Lopez's place. DeSoto, you’re with Goldstein. You’ll go to Jauncey’s.”

“What about me?” Smith said for the first time since Percival put him down.

“Smith,” he muttered. “I want thorough research on Gellert Grindelwald. Personality, methodology, life story. I want a report on it by eight in the morning or you are off this case.”

“Yes.” He sighed before picking up his things.

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Graves emphasized. “DeSoto,” he said and the poor boy straightened up. “You’re new to Senior Auror team.”

“Yes sir.”

He was entrusting Tina's safety to someone who still had spots. He would've preferred to supervise the kid himself and leave Tina with Patterson, after all, the two women were both experienced. But seeing how eager Patterson had been, well, he would've preferred to supervise her and make sure she didn't do anything regrettable. The other alternative was to send her with Smith, which was risky, or alone, which was even riskier. If he tried to ground Tina and only send the kid, she would never forgive him. This whole thing stunk and he wished the rest of the team wasn't taking so long to arrive. 

“Wait with Patterson by the front. We will be there momentarily.”

“Right away sir.” DeSoto said, leaving the room with Patterson.

Now him and Tina were finally alone, though she did not react at all to that change in status, still looking down at the paper in front of her. Merlin, he would’ve given anything for her to just march over and slap him across the face. He certainly deserved it; he’d gotten slapped for lesser offenses. But she didn’t move. She was just…numb.

With a flick of his wand he shut the door. She still did not react.

“Goldstein,” he said next, trying to find her eyes but she would still not look at him. Could he really blame her? “If you want to send a Patronus as a message, it’s _Expecto Patronum Nuntius_. When your Patronus appears, just speak the message and who you want to send it to.”

She finally looked up at him, surprised. This was not what she had been expecting him to say, and it wasn’t what he set out to tell her originally either. He wanted to apologize, but whenever the words were about to leave his lips, his fear got the better of him. They were about to leave on a critical and potentially dangerous mission; he could not be compromised, and neither could she.

“You think one of them betrayed us?”

“Yes,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “I don’t like this. Were they selected to go to England, or did they volunteer?”

Tina frowned, trying to remember.

“I think Madam President selected them both.”

“Fuck.” He muttered, the millions of other questions popping into his mind. Could Picquery realistically be a traitor too? Is it possible she didn’t know she was sending a traitor? Which was worse?

“I know.” Tina whispered, grabbing her jacket and moving towards the door too. It was nice to know she at least seemed as worried about it as he was.

She was a good partner.

_Was._

How he wanted to hold that door closed, to tell her how much of an idiot he had been. She needed to know how much all of her contributions really had mattered, that he only meant that it was a waste that she had been assigned to the Wand Permit Office. The last thing he wanted to convey was that she hadn’t done enough, but it was exactly what he did. What if she did something stupid just because she thought she had to prove something to him? Her blood would be on his hands.

Fuck.

He had to. She had to.

“Tina,” he started, swallowing hard as she went to open the door. She stopped and turned to him, her expression still sunken. “Be careful at Jauncey’s place. Please.”

_Fuck. Just fucking apologize._

She flashed him a weak smile, opening the door.

Too late.

\--

Jauncey came from money. This was not new to Tina and the other Aurors, who had to deal with the man’s constant name-dropping of who he shared a booth with at the latest Quidditch World Cup – some man named Malfoy most recently – or whose restaurant he managed to snag at a table at. It made him impossible to do any stakeouts with, as anything short of a stay at a five-star hotel would earn a night of complaining about the bath soaps and towels and whatever other irrelevant crap he could muster. Tina could never understand how the man had become a Senior Auror outside of them pitying him for his number of years working, and now he was missing. Possibly dead.

Of course, the man had an apartment two blocks from Central Park. And of course, it was new construction, towering higher than any of the nearby buildings – over thirty floors by the look of it. It even had a doorman; a tall, man with a Russian accent dressed to the nines. The closest thing Tina had ever had was Ms. Esposito and she certainly was not as well dressed and she definitely did not hold onto her mail or packages.

With DeSoto in tow, she concealed the two of them to get to the elevator without any questions or comments. This was the type of building where they would want to know who she was, and the less interaction she had with no-maj, the better, especially after the incident that got her demoted. Graves would have approved of her decision.

She sighed, pressing the elevator button, with all numbers still clean and legible. She would not let him into her mind, not while she was still in this mission, and not after either.

“Is this your first time on the field as a Senior?”

“Yes,” DeSoto said, with a nervous smile. “I’ve been doing paperwork, mostly.”

“You’ll be fine,” Tina reassured. The poor boy was sweating bullets. “Just keep your eyes open, be alert. Distracted Aurors are dead Aurors.”

Fucking Percival Graves and his sayings.

The elevator door opened to a well-lit hall, still reeking of fresh paint. Even the patterned blue carpet beneath them yielded under their steps; not completely settled yet. This was a very new building indeed.

When they arrived at the front door, Tina cast all manner of revealing charms, all yielding nothing. With a nod to DeSoto, a simple unlocking charm opened the door for them.

It was nothing short of impressive.

The wall opposite the front door was completely made up of floor to ceiling windows, giving them a view of the Manhattan skyline in front of them, with thousands of shining windows in the distance. The dark spot in the center must have been Central Park, and she imagined it must have been beautiful to see in the daytime.

“Look for anything that doesn’t fit, but careful with what you touch.”

“Don’t you think we should get Graves and the others here? More power in numbers, just in case?”

“We can handle it, DeSoto.” Tina said, probably a little harsher than she should have.

She didn’t need Graves.

The apartment was silent apart from their footsteps on the marble floors. DeSoto was normally a pretty quiet Auror, always filling out paperwork and barely talking to anyone but Tina. The most she had been able to gather from the kid was that he was a Pukwudgie at Ilvermorny, got good grades, and joined the Auror training program after his parents were killed by no-maj thieves. He had been so uncomfortable when he told her, nearly twisting in his seat with his eyes down, that she never thought to bring up much else with him. He had enough on his plate.

They split up, Tina going through wide double doors leading into the bedroom she guessed must have been his. The king-sized bed was made, with far too many pillows – there was no way a single man needed six pillows – and looked untouched. New, even.

A bang.

Tina raised her wand to a frantic silver hawk which landed on her feet.

_“Lopez is dead, the apartment is bugged, get out!”_

\--

Percival dove under the small bed as the bookshelf he had just been standing next to exploded, sending shards of wood flying everywhere.

“Patterson! Don’t use any magic!” He yelled over the explosions around him.

“Sir, I can’t move. It got my leg.” She said, her voice pained.

The loud pops were starting to fizzle, but he could still see their faint light in the room around him.

“Where are you?”

“Under… under,” she said, her voice turning to a cry. “Under Lopez, sir.”

Shit. If that didn’t give the poor girl nightmares for the rest of her life, then she was made of a tougher cloth than he was.

And Lopez, poor kid. Percival had promoted him that same year to a Senior Auror position after he pulled three other Aurors to safety while under attack from a loose dragon in an old mine of all places. It was a shit mission, not even meant for his team – they weren’t dragon wranglers – but they were the only squad available. When they got down the mine, the beast revolted, accidentally causing a cave-in which trapped all Aurors inside with the pissed off fire-breathing Swedish Short-Snout. Percival managed to find an opening, but Lopez, he didn’t want to leave without the whole team, even if it only meant bringing back their bodies. With Percival being ‘bait’- a term he did not take kindly to - Lopez was able to pull out all the Aurors just in time for the rest of the mine to collapse.

They’d hailed him a hero and Percival was happy to step back and let the man take all the credit. And now, he laid on his own couch, dead not more than a day. Killing spell by the looks of it, but impossible to be sure without an autopsy.

“Sir?”

“I’m here. I’m under the bed. I’ll come to you.”

It was hard to see as the smoke covered the small studio apartment, but she wasn’t too far away from him from the sounds of it.

He slid out from his hiding place, cautiously looking at the remnants of the wall close to where he had been standing. Before he flew down to the floor, it had been full of photographs of people and places; whatever Lopez wanted to photograph that day. And now, the whole wall was a smoking black mess. There was no way the no-maj didn’t hear any of that, and they needed to get away from all this before their police came and started asking questions.

All this started because of a simple Lumos. Someone had put a curse or something on the apartment to react to any sort of magic. Of course, since they both had no idea, after the first explosion they fired off a series of protection charms and a damn Patronus, causing a chain reaction that nearly blew the whole place apart.

The living room looked worse than a warzone, with the walls torn apart and nearly every piece of furniture turned to dust. Lopez’s body was now nearly unrecognizable, thanks to the explosions. The leather jacket he got as a gift for his promotion was shredded, showing the badly burnt skin underneath. His dark hair had been singed, his usual cheerful demeanor now a mess of blackened shapes. Worse yet, his body had fallen from the couch, lying on top of a clearly shaken Tamara Patterson. Her whole body trembled, her eyes fixed on an invisible spot on the floor.

“Hey, look at me,” he said softly, pushing the heavy body to the side. It landed on the floor with a thud and she nearly jumped, cowering away from it. He pushed the body as far from her sight as he could, throwing what was left of a blanket over his face. “You’re going to be ok. We’ll walk out of this together. Ok?”

“Yes sir,” she muttered, nodding up at him, tears in her eyes. Speaking had become a struggle for her, and he knew all too well what that felt like. “I’m sorry sir. Lopez, he was a good friend.”

He too once saw someone close to him die, right next to him on a bloody mission. After dragging his lifeless body to safety, he swore he’d kill the men who did it. It took him three years to find them, but when he did, he made them suffer for days before finally letting them die. Seraphina knew about it too. She did not stop him.

“I know,” he said, pulling her up. Her right leg, below the knee, looked like it had been shredded by a werewolf and he had doubts on whether magic could save it. Fuck. She had such a promising career too. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She leaned on him as they both walked out of the apartment to the shocked look of several no-maj neighbors. He muttered something about a gas leak to them, negating any offers of help from the friendlier people. How sweet. It’s a pity they’d all have to be obliviated.

When they were far enough away, Percival apparated them back to MACUSA. News of Grindelwald’s escape had spread quickly, and even on a Sunday night the halls were packed with people wanting to help however they could. It was quite a change from what he was used to, and now as he looked into the concerned eyes of all the personnel, he knew it was their way of showing him some sympathy, silly as it was. If he wasn’t dragging a nearly unconscious Auror while still looking for the most dangerous wizard in the world, he may have been pleased.

He left Patterson with the medical team before heading back to Major Investigations. More Aurors had shown up and were eagerly waiting for his arrival, all bowing their heads as he walked in. Dawlish, the tallest at nearly seven feet stood, giving him a faint nod, as did Yates, who was missing part of his nose from the dragon wrangling earlier that year. But there was one person he didn’t see. Two, actually.

“Has Goldstein returned? And DeSoto?”

Confusion. Shrugs all around. He looked around the crowded room, scanning every face, his heart beating a little faster on not seeing any positive matches.

She hadn’t come back.

_She hadn’t come back._

\--

“DeSoto! We have to get out, right the hell now.” Tina yelled, turning away from the spacious bedroom.

Silence.

“DeSoto?”

She ran down the living room, looking desperately in all directions. There was no way he had left – she would have heard the door. It was heavy enough that even when she closed it softly after their entrance, it made out a loud enough bang that the neighbors had probably heard.

“Tina!” The panicked voice shouted. “The door to the closet shut, I’m trapped. I can’t apparate.”

It came from a closed door opposite where Tina had been. He banged against it, rattling the door on its hinges. She grabbed the knob but found it burning against her hand, leaving a red mark on her palm.

“Alohomora,” she tried, to no effect. “Aberto!”

Nothing.

“Is there a key?” He yelled from the other side, still banging wildly. “Tina, the whole thing is starting to burn up. Please!”

“I don’t know, there’s a keyhole; I'll find it.”

The kid was stuck; he was stuck in a possibly bugged apartment, and there was no magic that could go through the door. She needed to act. She needed to help him. This was her first major mission in charge of another Auror and she was not going to screw it up.

“Expulso!”

The ray from her wand smashed into the door but fizzled into nothing, with no sign of her even having cast a spell.

If there was a key, she’d have to find it.

She dashed back to the living room, throwing aside all caution to the wind as she searched for something; anything that would help with the door. There were issues of The New York Ghost spread out over the coffee table; unusual for a man who criticized it so much over lunch. But, that wasn’t all. They were clearly dated for that week – Jauncey, or someone had been there as soon as that very same day. That, with Lopez being dead? Graves was right. They were betrayed.

Tina was about to rush to the other cabinet, but stopped. Underneath the mess of papers there was a brown box, no bigger than a textbook, with the same symbol that had been on Graves’ hand. A triangle, with a circle and a line inside it. Grindelwald. Without thinking, she grabbed the box and immediately felt the world be sucked out from under her.

And then, silence.

\--

Percival marched with half a dozen Aurors in tow to Jauncey’s apartment - no-maj witnesses be damned. That fucking bastard had killed Lopez; had helped Grindelwald escape. But no, that wasn’t enough for him – he had Tina, he just _knew_ it. He never should have sent her there, he never should have even yelled at her, but he did, he fucked it all up. Now she was in trouble and her blood was on his hands.

And Jauncey, the fucker. Percival always sensed the older man harbored some resentment for him when he got the promotion to Director. He understood; Jauncey was older, with more years in the force, but insecure. His doubts almost cost the lives of several Aurors when he hesitated to stun Marcellus Wallace, the biggest serial killer Long Island had seen in a hundred years. The man – the idiot – hesitated, and Marcellus got the upper hand, collapsing a roof that crushed the people beneath it. Nearly the entire Auror team was out of commission for a month because of it.

Percival had been one of them, and he never forgot it, and the others didn't either. It was no surprise the man never got promoted again.

As they made their way to the thirtieth floor, he had only two things on his mind: murdering the bastard and getting Tina back, safe.

He shouldn’t have worried so much about her; after all, she was a tough gal. She had jumped into the New York sewers on a winter day to apprehend a thief when all the other Aurors thought themselves too good to get messy. She fought, outnumbered, against a mob boss and his forces, buying Percival enough time to get reinforcements and arrest every single one of them. And, something that no other Auror had done, she’d stood up to him numerous times when he gave a command she didn’t agree with. It was always such a pain in the ass, and he punished her with pointless paperwork whenever she did it. But it never stopped her from doing it again.

Tina was a fighter. If she had been caught, she’d resist. She’d fight. She’d give them hell.

But he'd still prefer it if it didn’t come to that.

When they barged through the front door they were greeted with panicked yelling from a closed door across the hall. It was a man’s voice – DeSoto?

Without thinking twice, Percival kicked open the door which nearly flew off its hinge, striking DeSoto in the face. The kid hit the various boxes and other junk behind him before Percival gripped him by his shirt collar.

“What happened?” Where’s Tina?”

“I-I don’t know,” he cried out, holding onto Percival’s arm. “She was looking for a key or something and then she was gone.”

Gone.

It wouldn’t make sense for her to apparate if she was looking for something. No, it had been involuntary.

A Portkey?

“Why were you in the closet?”

“We were looking for clues, for something, anything.”

“In the closet?”

“Yes.” He gasped, as Percival’s grip grew tighter.

At this point he trusted no one. How does an Auror lock himself in a closet?

“Travers, Lemos, Claus” Percival shouted. “Take DeSoto back to the infirmary. The rest of you, search the apartment. I want to know what magic was used here and when, and by whom.”

He went back to the living room, the only place that looked like it had been hit by a tornado. There were recent issues of The New York Ghost everywhere, its loose pages covering the floor. If it had been a portkey, she could have been anywhere, and he had nothing to go on. She was alone, somewhere, against the same maniac who held him hostage for nearly a month. Was she strong enough? _Was he?_

And then, out of nowhere, a bang. Percival turned to find a silvery wolf staring him down, licking its chops. This was not Tina’s Patronus.

_“Hello, Percy. I believe I have something you want.”_

\--

Tina fell face-first onto a cold, hard surface, her stomach churning. A portkey. The box had been a portkey and she touched it, against all sense.

And then, before she could even open her eyes, her wand was pulled from her pocket as a tight rope wrapped around her torso, squeezing her arms and legs together to the point of discomfort. Several men had gathered around her, all with their wands out and pointed straight to her. It was hard to tell with their bodies in the way, but it looked like they were in a large, mostly empty warehouse. There were few lights dangling from the ceiling, leaving most of the warehouse shrouded in darkness.

“Wait, who’s this?” A man yelled from the shadows.

“It’s a woman.” Another responded, his voice a little too excited.

“Well fuck, this ain’t who we want.” A third man answered, this one hoarse.

“No,” another distinct voice said above the others. “This is better.”

For a moment, the world stopped. She knew that accented voice; one that had shown up in her nightmares after the incident at the subway. From the shadows, a man stepped forward, his features coming into the light.

Slicked black blonde hair. A cocky grin that begged to be smacked away. A long black coat that nearly went to his feet. Grindelwald.

With each step forward he took, Tina squirmed, trying to get away. This was the man who tortured Graves every single day, the one responsible for his nightmares, who broke his hands twice. And he was coming straight for her, wand in hand. There was nothing she could do.

He knelt in front of her, his mismatched eyes examining her like a Healer would a patient. He brought his hand up and she immediately flinched, closing her eyes, awaiting the pain.

“Shhhh, I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered. His hand fell to her cheek and she flinched again, feeling a sob coming to her throat as the fear gripped her. Those awful, disgusting fingers dragged up her ears, pushing her hair back as they tangled in her hair. The act disgusted her, and she couldn’t help but show her distaste to him. “You really have to work on your Occlumency, Ms. Goldstein. Otherwise, this is no fun.”

“Leave me alone,” she whispered, still trying to shrink under his touch. Each second his fingers lingered against her neck made her skin crawl. “Graves will come.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he said, stifling a laugh. “But, let’s give him an assurance you’re in good hands first. And thanks to you, we have the perfect way to communicate that now.”

He withdrew from her, pulling out a long wand from his pocket – it was Lopez’s wand. She remembered having to re-register it in the past month, when his original one broke. She wouldn’t have to find out long to see what he meant. Immediately, a silver wolf leapt out, rushing through them before disappearing into a nearby wall. The ability to use a Patronus as a message – he saw it in her mind. And now she taught it to him, unintentionally. Graves was going to walk into a trap because of her; because she screwed up beyond redemption that time.

“Now, Ms. Goldstein. We have a lot to talk about.”

The ropes suddenly came undone and her limbs were now free. But with all those men standing around her, she dared not move.

“Come here, let’s have a chat. They won’t hurt you as long as I’m not hurt,” he said, casually as he walked to a small metallic desk by the other side of the otherwise plain room. She still hadn’t moved, her legs shaking too much to walk. He took a seat in front of the desk and gestured to the empty seat opposite him. “May I note, I am not a patient man.”

Withdrawing her tears, she slowly pushed herself up. She counted fourteen other men surrounding her, their foreboding glares telling her all she needed to know about the man she feared. The faces of those men were not strange to her, and she was sure she’d arrested a good portion of them in the past. Graves probably arrested even more than her. And there, in the corner, still in his Goddamn Auror uniform was Charles Jauncey with his grizzled hair. His once handsome features were gradually becoming more obscured by wrinkles as he aged, and it looked like he had aged a decade since she last saw him. His eyes showed not one hint of remorse or guilt or any sign he even cared about Tina. She had worked alongside him for years, fought with him, ate with him, and now that her life was in his hands and that of a madman, he did not give a damn. They stood in opposition to one another.

They may as well have been strangers.

But none of them made a move. Her hands were free. It was completely possible to try for wandless magic, but against that many at once? No, it was suicide. Even Graves would not have been crazy enough to try it. She had to follow his commands, whatever they were, to stay alive long enough to escape. Graves always taught them to figure out how to escape; to pay attention to the details, to the potential weaknesses.

She sat on the crude chair, which crunched under her pressure. One of the legs was shorter than the other and she was sure it would break if she pushed down hard enough. Grindelwald put both hands on the desk and glanced at her, then at his own hands. He wanted her to do the same.

Was this how he broke Graves’ hand? Was it how it all started?

There must have been a way out. She glanced back, her heart sinking as she realized all the men were still standing there around her, watching intently. Grindelwald was still staring at her, his eyes burrowing into her mind, digging into her secrets. There was no choice. She lifted up her hands, now shaking visibly, and laid them down on the cold metal table, waiting for the pain to come.

“You’re much more agreeable than Percy. I think we’ll get along just fine.”

\--

Grindelwald had her. 

She was with the most dangerous man in the world. And he had nothing. He was alone.

His hands shook; his wand wavering between his fingers and nearly falling to the floor. There was a ball in his throat again making it impossible to swallow. His ears rung.

Deep breath. He could not have another panic attack in front of his Aurors.

But fuck, he felt so powerless, so useless. That night alone he had one dead Auror, another disabled, and now Tina kidnapped. He failed. Again.

They had all heard the Patronus and were silently waiting for something from him. Regardless of what happened that night, of how he felt about himself or all that bullshit, he was still a pillar of strength to those men and women. The worst wizard they had all known in their lifetime was back, and he was in charge. He couldn’t fail them.

Another deep breath. His fingers tightened against his wand and against the warm gloves in his pocket; the ones that had been all too small but saved him a mountain of embarrassment at a time he didn’t deserve kindness. Her gloves. A reminder she was still there, somewhere, and she needed him. She needed him to be strong too.

They had to regroup at MACUSA. He had to make sure the tracking team examined both apartments to see if there was any magic they could trace. There was no way he could waste even a second with Tina captured. But had it been a trap, or was the portkey meant for someone else to find their way to Grindelwald? It was impossible to be sure of, not without finding her.

Another deep breath. He could do this. He had no choice.

He brought the team back with him, assigning each person to a different task in hopes of finding Tina. They had to look up the magic on portkeys – if tracing them was possible, and if so, how. He even had someone going through all of Jauncey’s records for any other properties he could’ve owned. If they rigged one place, it was completely possible they could use a different one as a safehouse, and he was taking no chances.

And now, he sat alone in the Major Investigation Department, hands dug into his scalp. He needed desperately to keep his focus on finding Tina, but it was impossible. This whole thing was his fault, down to the very beginning when he got captured in the first place. What if he used the Cruciatus Curse on her like he did on him, for hours on end? What if he also broke each bone of her hand, one by one? And she was a lady, what if… what if….

He shook his head. No. Grindelwald didn’t partake in senseless violence. He wouldn’t hurt her for the sake of it. Oh no, he’d hurt her, to hurt him.

If he had just apologized to her, this wouldn’t have happened. Hell, if he had never shouted at her in the first place it never would have happened. They would’ve gone to the apartment together, and if they got captured, they would’ve at least had each other’s backs. But no, she was alone, in danger, because he couldn’t control his fucking emotions like an adult.

What a fucking mess. He looked up at the Real Time Hex Indicator in front of him, watching all the lights blink across the United States. Any of those dots could be Grindelwald, casting a hex on her, but it would be impossible to investigate them all. There wasn’t even a guarantee that he would be using a hex anyway. The only spell he knew Grindelwald had used was a Patronus.

Hm.

A Patronus. Grindelwald used a Patronus.

It was not a common spell. Most wizards and witches never even needed to cast one in their entire lifetime.

But there was no way to trace a Patronus. Not unless… not unless he enchanted the map to show all Patronus charms cast in the last hour instead of Hexes.

He could do it. It’d be easy. But there was a reason they didn’t have maps to track specific spells, or even the Unforgivables – the wizarding community didn’t want to feel like they were being spied on by the government. The last time they had a map to show all uses of the Killing Curse – the worst of all of them – there had been such an outrage on the papers that they had to get rid of it. The public just didn’t trust MACUSA with that kind of power, and Percival could understand the reluctance, especially after it was shown that a maniac had been impersonating a high ranking MACUSA official. It was, frankly, a miracle that they had even been allowed to keep the Hex Indicator at all.

If he changed the map, he would find Tina. He was sure of it. He could remedy at least one mistake that night.

But if anyone found out, the outrage would extend beyond him. Picquery would have his head and there would be no doubt that he would lose his job. And he’d be willingly breaking so many laws; the same laws the people entrusted him to enforce. If they found out, the entire wizarding community would lose faith on him and MACUSA as a whole, there would be riots, and the newspaper would be dragging his ass through mud for months. It would be the worst disaster for his reputation and MACUSA’s since news that Grindelwald had been impersonating him.

_If they found out_ , of course. It’d be relatively easy to hide too, he’d just need to enchant the map back before anyone returned, and make up a bullshit story of how he knew where she was. Easy.

And Tina. He would save her. He would save her from the same fate that had befallen him. Possibly at his expense, but he would save her. He took out the pair of gloves in his pocket, feeling the cotton on his fingertips. They still smelled of her perfume.

He’d break so many rules. More than he could count.

More blinking lights filled the Hex Indicator.

Time was running out. Could he defy his entire community to save one life? Her life?

He slipped the gloves on.

Yes. Yes he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Real Time Hex Indicator is a real thing at MACUSA. Not much is known about it other than the fact that it indicates where a hex is cast, and that it's in the Major Investigations Department, so I improvised a little.


	10. I Choose Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graves wakes the dragon against Grindelwald and his followers (not a literal dragon - sorry!).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been patiently waiting for something to happen, here's to you!

“I really meant it when I said I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

“Is that what you told him too?” She spat back, examining the monster in front of her.

“Percy and I made several deals, and he broke almost all of them,” he said, too calmly for someone talking about torture. “So, I did hurt him. But you, dear, are an exception. All I ask is for you to hear me out, and not hurt me or my men. Can you do that?”

She dug her fingers into the desk, the memory of the pain across his face as his hand throbbed was still very much vivid. She wanted nothing more than to launch herself at the man across from her; to watch him suffer as she could only imagine Graves had suffered. But it wasn’t the smartest plan. If he didn’t do something, one of the other mindless apes behind her surely would.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said, pulling something out of his jacket pocket; something familiar. It was her wand. He set it down right next to her shivering hand with all the care in the world, adjusting it so that it was perfectly easy for her to just pick it up while barely even moving her fingers. “I believe this is yours.”

This was a test.

“It is.” She whispered, her eyes fixed on the object.

“You can take it back when I say you can.”

It would have been so easy to just grab it and send a hex in Grindelwald’s direction. This was the kind of situation that Graves trained them for; why he was always so concerned with them perfecting their reaction time. Tina suspected, though, that he never expected them to be against someone as deadly as Grindelwald. If she made one tiny mistake, or just wasn’t fast enough, she’d be dead. If she did nothing, then, if he was telling the truth, nothing would happen to her.

It was tempting, but she knew better. She knew her odds.

And, most importantly, this had to be a test. If she had to guess, it was that he wanted to see if she would comply, if she could be trusted. If Grindelwald trusted her, he would be more likely to make a mistake that made it easy to escape. Or, that’s what Graves always taught.

With a deep breath she focused her eyes back on the man – the monster - in front of her. She accidentally rubbed her burnt palm on the table and flinched. This was not lost on him.

“Dear, are you hurt?”

She did not want to answer. If he was as bad as Graves had described, he would use that as an opportunity to make her pain even worse. Grindelwald was not apt on giving her a choice, though, and held out his hand to her. He glanced at her hand, and then his own. Not this again. She sighed.

Still gripped by fear, she followed his wordless instructions, laying her hand over his. The cold, callused surface made her flinch on contact. His hand was nothing like Graves’, lacking the warmth and gentle caress. It was downright embarrassing that the two were ever confused for one another. And then, the subtle feel of magic against her palm, the soothing relief washing over her whole hand. When she flipped it over, the burn mark was completely gone.

It was impossible to hide the shock plastered on her face. The most dangerous man in the world had _healed_ her. This didn’t make any sense.

Unless...

He was toying with her. Mental manipulation. She had to remind herself that no matter how calm he appeared, how much he promised not to hurt her, and regardless of whether he healed her or not, this was still a dangerous man. He was not a friend. This was still a test.

“I’m curious. What has Percy told you? About our time together?”

A beat. Why did he care? How was it relevant?

“You broke his hands twice,” she said, unable to hide the anger. “And you left a nasty curse on them the second time.”

He smiled, tearing his gaze from her as if he was remembering the event. She wanted so desperately to smack that smile off his face.

She gripped the table a little harder.

“What else?”

Was there anything more? She suspected the eating thing was related to the torture, but he hadn’t spoken a word of it specifically. He’d been put in that briefcase for a long time, but again, that was implied. He didn’t really speak of any of it, and all she really had were ridiculous rumors.

“That’s it.”

“Interesting. Very interesting,” he muttered, looking down. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“No.”

“Hm. Strange he wouldn’t share all that information with the woman he loves.”

Tina couldn’t help the snort that escaped her throat; it surprised Grindelwald. Hell, it surprised her.

“Graves loves his job and his work.”

“And you really think he has no feelings towards you? At all?”

“No,” she said, looking away. If he did, he sure as hell ruined it earlier that day. “Not really.”

She had been hopeful, stupidly so, that something could develop between them. It was always in the back of her mind, and that weekend did nothing to soothe those emotions. But then, that display of rage just threw everything out the window, and he never even apologized for it. He had plenty of chances and each time she hoped he would do it, but no, he never did. At times it almost looked like he would, but actions - or inaction - spoke louder than words.

“I’m sorry about your fight. Percy became a tad bit rough around the edges after we spent some time together. That whole thing is my fault anyway; his hands and all.”

It was as if she was having a conversation with Queenie, if Queenie was an evil maniac with the power and willingness to murder her. Nothing was hidden, nothing was sacred.

“But he does like you, quite a lot. Do you want me to show you?”

He waved to one of his men who had a large bag slung over his shoulder. The man, short and mostly round, looked familiar but she could not place him. When he opened up the bag, Grindelwald, with a slow wave of his hand pulled a large object from it; larger than the bag itself. It was a pensieve. Grindelwald had his own pensieve. He waved the large object over to them before raising the wand to his temple, pulling out a single memory and dropping it in, where it filled to take up the entire space.

That was not what she was expecting.

He gestured towards the pensieve. This was not a drill; he really expected her to look into one of his memories. But what would he show her? Him torturing Graves? She didn’t want to see that – not from his perspective anyway. She figured Graves would show her, eventually, when he was ready. This would be intrusive; it would be wrong.

His fingers tapped against the table. _I am not a patient man_ , he had said. She had no choice. Graves would understand. She stood, keeping her hands on the desk as he had instructed and he touched the tip of his wand to the silvery liquid. It sped and swirled, the picture suddenly becoming clear.

Nothing could've prepared her for what she would find when she slipped her head in.

The room transformed around her, and she suddenly materialized inside an all too familiar home office – the same one she had pulled him from. Graves, in his undergarments, was on his knees, his stubble grown to the itchy beard he had when she pulled him from the briefcase. If his thin shape and shaggy hair were any indication, this must have been around the same time she rescued him; maybe a few days before. But that wasn't the worst of it. No, the part that had her clenching at her chest was the numb expression on his face. Completely devoid of life, of hope. At that moment, he merely existed as a shell, with no shred of humanity left on him.

And then, out of nowhere, Grindelwald stepped through her, carrying Graves’ wand, still wearing his face and his clothes. It was nothing short of eerie, to watch the handsome and well groomed imposter in front of the disheveled original, to know the man on the floor had spent nearly a month suffering at that point.

He inspected the submissive Graves, pushing his fingers through his hair a little too aggressively, as if impatiently trying to straighten the loose strands for the thousandth time. But without any substance to hold it up, it just felt back to the sides. Graves did not react at all to this, staring blankly ahead of him. This was probably a daily occurrence for him. What else did he have to endure on a daily basis? What else had he become numb to that Grindelwald wasn't showing her?

She shuddered at the thought.

“Look at me.” Grindelwald demanded, his wand pushing up on Graves’ chin.

He complied, his empty eyes looking up at the copy with complete disinterest. She’d been the recipient of that face before, more times than she could count, but when he did it to her there was at least a spark in his eyes. And now, in this memory, there was nothing. He was hollow.

“I think we’re getting close to wrapping this up.”

No reaction. It didn’t even look like he was breathing. Grindelwald continued.

“You’ll soon have your life back. As promised.”

Not even a blink. He almost appeared comatose. Grindelwald did not even seem to care that he was having a conversation with himself and continued still.

“Ms. Goldstein came to the department today.”

One of his eyebrows twitched, only for a split second. A reaction. His eyes suddenly focused, a gleam of life now present. The spark wasn’t completely dead. It was subtle, and if she hadn’t gotten to know him she would have never noticed it.

“With one, Newt Scamander. I’m sure you’re familiar with the name.”

He blinked, once, twice. Took a breath through his mouth. It was a small reaction, but she knew it was what Grindelwald wanted. The wand stayed pointed into his chin.

“It seems Mr. Scamander is stirring up trouble and unfortunately Ms. Goldstein was alongside him. They're both suspects in the murder of a prominent no-maj politician.”

Graves frowned, shaking his head, his breathing suddenly speeding up.

"No." He muttered, sounding more like a grunt.

"Madam President had me arrest them tonight. Their interrogation is in the morning."

“Don’t hurt them.”

She was sure Graves meant for that to be defiant, but it came out as nothing more than plea. It was weak, barely above a whisper.

Given how Graves had done more interrogations than anyone in the office, he knew just what the possible outcomes could be. And he knew exactly what his copy was capable of, without an ounce of remorse. At that moment, Graves must have known that her and Newt being sent to a hasty execution was a very real possibility.

Grindelwald shrugged. “I can’t promise that.”

“Please,” he said, his voice cracking. She couldn’t tell if it was from the lack of use or from a burst of emotion, but either possibility broke her heart. “What do you want?”

“You’re not exactly in a position to offer me anything, Percy.”

His entire face sank, eyes darting wildly. Tina knew that whatever happened that night had been void, as Grindelwald had sentenced them to death. She could still feel the chill of the death cells, even in her nightmares, could still remember just how close she came to being executed like a common criminal. It was more than chilling.

She hoped Graves hadn’t given up anything valuable or done anything brash.

“After you finish this, after you release me,” he muttered. “I’ll serve you. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please release them. I know they weren't responsible.”

 _What?_ No, no way had Graves volunteered to do that. It was a lie; it had to be a lie. A follower of Grindelwald? No. He couldn't realistically offer that. She knew he would have preferred to die rather than follow such a lowlife. He probably hoped that after he was free again he'd be able to kill the man. That sounded more like the Graves she knew.

“I can’t exactly count on that.”

“You have my word.”

“And how good is that?” He gestured down to Graves’ twice-broken hands. “You have nothing, Percy.”

With a wave of his hand, Graves started being pulled back into his prison.

“No!” He yelled, his body suddenly alive as it thrashed against the magic. “Please – I’m a secret keeper, I have information you can’t just rip from my mind.”

Tina couldn’t help but gasp. He didn’t. He couldn’t have.

The magic stopped and Graves fell face down on the floor.

“Percy. You’d hand me someone else’s life just to save her?”

“Them. Both of them.”

“Pick one. I wouldn’t give you both.”

“Her,” he gasped. There wasn’t even a pause. He looked up at Grindelwald, his eyes wet. “Her. Don’t hurt her.”

Tina swallowed back her own tears as she watched. Graves, willing to give up the most confidential information possible. For her.

The world around her started to dissipate and she pulled out of the pensieve, frozen in shock.

Grindelwald pushed the bowl and it floated off the table, back in the bag which he minimized and stuck in a pocket inside his coat. She did not sit back down.

And now, she was the one with rage that would make Graves envious. “You broke your word.”

“He didn’t give me the secret we negotiated on.”

“Bullshit.”

“Secret keepers cannot divulge information through torture or blackmail. The ‘secret’ he fed me was no secret at all. The deal was void.”

She released the air trapped in her lungs. So he had been lying; he was never actually going to provide that information. He was just throwing darts at the board to see what stuck, and he found something that stuck, albeit weakly. Unless, of course, he tried but found that the information couldn't be passed on. But which one was it? Did she even want to know? As brave and noble as that attempt was, if she had done the same thing she would have been jailed – not just demoted - but thrown in prison as a traitor.

No, ridiculous. Graves would never violate a law or break MACUSA’s trust; not for anyone and certainly not for her. His 'promises' were lies. They had to be. He had to lie because there was nothing else to offer Grindelwald at that point - not when he could Legilimens anything useful from Graves.

And Grindelwald must have known it.

Which means, the whole thing, the whole ordeal she just watched was nothing more than a torture session. It was meant to cause anxiety, to cause him emotional pain, to make him feel useless because he couldn't save her. An attempt to break Graves even further - and it worked. He wasn't after any information or any person. He just wanted to see Graves suffer.

She felt her anger rise. Grindelwald raised his eyebrows - he must have been reading her mind and noticed she caught onto what that memory was truly showing. Now he would hurt her. She needed to fight.

And then, suddenly, a crash; the sound of the shattering glass destroying the peace and quiet around their conversation.

She glanced behind her in time to see a flurry of dark shapes burst through the windows of the warehouse, each one flying straight into the men around her.

Aurors!

There was no time to think. Tina grabbed her wand in time to see Grindelwald’s shocked face turn to anger, his hands lifting off the table. She kicked the chair back, shooting a _Stupefy_ in Grindelwald’s direction. By the time he blocked it with his hand she was already firing another spell. If she kept him on the defensive she would have a chance. Grindelwald was no ordinary wizard though, and as his left hand blocked her spells, his right flung the desk they were using, faster than she could block it.

A dark blur materialized in front of her, splitting the table in half in mid-air, the split pieces falling to the ground, harmless.

His long coat flew behind him in his entrance, giving an air of grandeur to a man who already needed no introduction.

“Don’t you _ever_ fucking touch her.”

He lunged towards Grindelwald, his voice seething with rage as he flung spell after spell, the fury in each one pushing their attacker back against the wall. Even without the use of his hand, Graves was winning this duel handily, the power in his spells wearing down whatever shield Grindelwald had cast on himself.

Another loud bang – the ceiling was hit with an Expulso from somewhere in the corner and part of the ceiling collapsed behind her, but Graves continued the duel as if nothing were happening. There were Aurors everywhere around her, fighting off the same men that threatened her with renowned vigor, a few of them running towards Graves to join the fight against Grindelwald. Pure chaos. It looked like he brought nearly the entire team to this fight.

Then, on her right, someone else ran into the picture, running straight to Graves. It wasn’t just any of the criminals – it was Jauncey.

Tina didn’t have time to think, only to react. She ran, throwing a hex at him before he could complete his spell. It hit him, tripping him forward, but not before the red light flew out of his wand, straight at them.

She threw herself between Graves and the spell, but before the Protego could even leave her lips the beam smashed into her right shoulder, pushing her back, but not down. Her whole arm burned. A quick glance at Graves showed he had turned his attention to her, and in that second of a distraction, Grindelwald’s form vanished into thin air, dissaparating somewhere, anywhere but that warehouse. Tina rushed to cancel the apparition but it was too late.

“You,” he growled, now throwing all his anger in Jauncey’s direction, immediately knocking him against the far wall like a rag doll. The old man never even stood a chance. “How _dare_ you.”

He threw another spell at him, this one sending Jauncey crashing to the floor, where his head smacked into the concrete floor with a bang. The man raised his hands in an attempt to protect himself or even yield but Graves continued throwing spells at him with no remorse, the man's body flying into the wall so hard that the old paint from the walls fell to the floor with him.

But Graves wasn’t done. He kept marching towards the man like a predator to its downed prey, right through still ongoing duels as if none of it mattered. He pulled the gloves off his fingers, stashing them in his pocket before also putting his wand away. _Graves put his wand away_.

This was insanity – not all of their opposition had been subdued yet and he put his wand away knowing he couldn’t do wandless magic. What was the point of this? She wanted revenge too but this was reckless and bordering on insanity. She hobbled over to him, her leg now throbbing in pain too.

Graves bent down to the traitor, picking him up by the collar with one hand while he started pummeling him with his fist, already drawing blood on the first punch. Jauncey tried to put his hands up to stop the assault, but Graves would just bat them away as if they were nothing, hitting him even harder the next time, knocking the man’s skull against the floor so hard it was a miracle it hadn’t shattered.

“Graves, enough!” She yelled, trying to yank him off Jauncey’s now unconscious body, but the man was immovable. He shrugged out of her touch as if she was mere fly buzzing around, doing nothing more than annoying him.

“He betrayed us. He fucking betrayed us,” His voice so rough he sounded more like an animal than a man. “He knew I was in that prison, dying. _He fucking knew_.”

His knuckles were now covered in blood and if he kept this up there wouldn’t be anything left for him to hit.

“ _Percival_ , stop, please!” Tina begged, her entire right side burning in pain. She could barely hold herself up, but she needed to hold out just a little bit longer.

The use of his first name didn't seem to do anything.

“These people are monsters, Tina.” He growled, winding up for another punch.

Tina put her arms around his torso, her hands clutching at his lapel, pulling him up and back. Even under all those layers his body was hot to the touch. Where Grindelwald was ice, he was fire. Where Grindelwald was unfeeling, Graves was fully capable of passion.

She also hadn’t realized just how strong he was until that moment, until she did all she could to try to stop him from doing something he would regret but he broke free with ease. She may as well have been paper to his rock.

But paper could envelop rock.

“But you’re not,” she said, softly, betraying the searing pain now shooting through her elbow. “You’re not like them. You’re not like him.”

“How do you know?”

He was going to kill him. If Tina couldn’t come up with something, this man – a key witness – would be dead, and Graves could seriously lose his job. No matter the mission, they were tasked with apprehending criminals, not murdering them on the spot, especially when they were unarmed and unconscious.

“Because you believed in me. You trained me. You’re my mentor. I know you, and you care about me as much as I care about you. He didn’t care; he can’t care.”

 _Careful_. She laid her hand over his bloodied fist, more as a symbolic attempt than as an actual attempt to stop it from coming down. He hesitated, letting his hand hang in the air.

Another sharp pain, at her wrist this time. It felt like it would burst, but she didn’t dare show it.

He shifted his gaze, now to her. It nearly destroyed her, to see him like this. The maddened eyes from moments ago, had gone, replaced with something she couldn’t place. Turmoil. Concern. Regret.

She had to continue.

“When he was still pretending to be you, I dueled him. He told me that I was always showing up where I wasn’t wanted,” she started, her chest hurting at the words. “And you would never say that to me.”

“I said worse to you today.” He said, pained, as if he’d been waiting an eternity to put it out.

“And you regretted what you said; I know it – I saw it in your eyes. But he, he meant it. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing. I look into yours and I see life. I see passion. _I see you_.”

He closed his eyes as if in pain, his brows furrowing, chest still heaving. There was no way this was easy for him. And then, suddenly his arm fell to his side, dropping Jauncey to the floor with a thud. He stopped struggling against her, putting a hand over hers.

Now she could finally breathe a sigh of relief, though it would be short lived. Another shooting pain through her right arm and she couldn’t help but let out a cry as she felt something crack on her rib.

“Tina?”

Those big brown eyes found hers immediately, in time for her to collapse on top of him, gripping her side. The curse was spreading quickly. There was no time.

“Graves.” Tina muttered, feeling the pain overwhelm her. She was falling through him – right into the long cashmere coat. The forest-like scent of figs filled her head and she couldn’t help but smile, even through the pain. And then, as the warehouse disfigured around her, turning into the familiar halls of MACUSA, the world went dark.

\--

Flashes of light. The ceiling scrolled above, with constant faces looking down at her. She was being carted off somewhere. There was yelling. Familiar yelling. Graves?

Darkness. More people talking.

Another flash of light. Her sister was standing over her, worried. She tried to speak, but could find no voice. Someone told her to rest.

She closed her eyes to more darkness.

Ringing. A constant ringing.

Something was on her arm. Against it, moving. It was soft, tender. Warm.

Consciousness flew in front of her one more time, but she gripped it, and didn’t let go. That hold brought her down, further and further until the ringing was gone, until she could feel the cold air be sucked into her lungs.

It was quiet. There was a distinct feeling of someone’s hand on her.

She barely had enough strength to open her eyes.

It was mostly dark; the light from the moon shining a small amount light into the room. Just enough to see. There was a silhouette to her side. She blinked.

Graves.

He sat on the chair that was entirely too small for him, one hand holding onto her outstretched arm while the other traced the damaged skin. His eyes were vacant, as if lost in thought, but not dormant like she’d seen. No, he was very much there, very much alive.

His touch lingered, leaving behind warmth wherever he grazed over. But behind that gentle gesture he was still gripping her arm tightly, afraid to let go. She couldn’t have wrestled out of his grip if she wanted to. And she did not want to.

She didn’t have much, if any, strength. But she needed him to know she was alright, that they would be alright.

It wasn’t much, but she wrapped her hand around his arm, giving him the hardest squeeze she could have mustered. With how numb her whole arm felt, it barely registered. A normal man – without his perception and his training - probably wouldn’t even have bat an eye, but not Graves. He immediately looked up at her, his eyes no longer vacant. And she smiled, as much as she could muster.

He returned the smile.

His hand slid down her arm, wrapping around her own limp hand. She wanted to show him she approved, but had no ounce of willpower left.

Exhausted, she closed her eyes and once again there was darkness.

It only felt like a second had passed, but when she opened her eyes again, the chair was empty, the light from the outside window illuminating it all too well. Her arm was in the same position, but with no sign he had been there, no lingering sign of his touch anywhere. Had it all been a hallucination? A dream?

No, her mind was not that kind to her. He had to have been there.

“Tina!”

Queenie’s familiar voice rang out from the other side and before she could even take in the situation, her sister’s arms were around her, her spicy perfume invading her senses. She was real – that she was sure of. Without thinking she raised her arms to hug her sister, and found her body responded as she wanted. Her right arm still felt a little numb, not responding as well as the left, but much better than she remembered.

“Can you move ok?” Queenie asked, backing away, the joy evident in her eyes.

Tina flexed each individual finger before balling them up into a fist. Her grip was a little weakened, but it was there, and it was stronger than before. Her wrist felt a little sore, but it was moveable. There was a faint line running up her palm, through her forearm and disappearing into her shoulder. This must have been what Graves had been tracing – the scar. He equated her scar with his.

“The Healers said you could've gotten paralyzed if they waited too long.”

“Do you know what it was?”

“I don’t remember the name, but it’s supposed to break the bones, one by one. You had almost twenty broken bones by the time they stopped it. Graves had to help.”

“Where is he?” She asked, her voice still a little weak.

“I think he’s with the other Aurors,” she said, walking to the door. “Hold on, I have to let him know you’re awake.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, he told me to get him as soon as you were awake again. Teenie, you should’ve seen him, he stayed here all night.”

“All night?”

Her heart fluttered. It had been real, then.

“He left a couple hours ago to go back to work, told me to stay with you until you woke up. Gosh, he was so worried, I’ve never felt anything like it before. That poor man needs a hug in the worst way”

Queenie stepped out of the room, and Tina suddenly found herself a nervous wreck, fear and doubt creeping into her mind like a virus. Grindelwald’s little game only served to confirm her suspicions about how he felt about her, but did he know she felt the same way? Given how apt Graves had been to always push her away, would the existence of her feelings even matter? She wasn’t as cold as him. He could deny it all day, but she wasn’t sure she could. This wasn’t just a fleeting wave of lust that came from time to time, not anymore. This was more than simple infatuation; it was the kind that would overtake all other demands from her mind and body. Everything else - Eating, sleeping, working - would all become secondary functions, her mind would focus only on him. It was all-consuming, and when it was reciprocated it was wonderful. When it wasn't, though, it was the worst hell a person could endure.

And now he was going to be there, in front of her. If he pushed her away again, if he pretended that that moment never happened, well, she wasn't sure she could handle it, not at the state she was in. She wasn't ready to deal with the possibility of hell.

She had to get out of there. This was a conversation she wanted but was not ready to have yet and she’d be surprised if he was. Knowing Graves, his mind was preoccupied with tracking down Grindelwald and it’s where it should have been anyway. The man was building himself an army, Graves still had the hearing, and they had way too much to do; she couldn’t hold him down. She wasn't going to leave that decision to him. No, she would make it for once. She couldn't get hurt again, not when the feelings felt so raw this time.

 _Distracted Aurors are dead Aurors_ , she repeated.

Queenie had, thankfully, brought her new - modest - office clothes and left them on a nearby counter by the window. The sun was shining brightly outside, hovering over the buildings in the distance and she guessed it was past noon already. Her body was fully aware that she hadn’t had a full meal in nearly a day, but at that moment, as she dressed as quickly as her weakened body would let her, she had no appetite. She’d go back to her desk, maybe send for a nice cup of coffee, and help Graves from afar until she cooled down a little bit. It would be best for the two of them.

As she was about to reach for the doorknob, her neatly calculated plan was thrown in the air.

The door crept open.

Percival Graves. Clearly surprised to see her dressed, and out of bed.

A stranger may have called him well-dressed, but Tina knew better. His tie was slightly loosened and crooked to the side, not fitting properly. A portion of his shirt had snuck out of his pants, the white fabric poking out beneath his waistcoat. His shoes had not been shined that day. Even his hair that was always meticulously brushed back with a gel or a wax to hold it in place now lacked that rigidity and loose strands were falling to the sides. And his face, _Mercy Lewis_ , she had no need to use Legilimens to be able to _feel_ what he was thinking. He had walked in fraught with worry – tense – and as soon as he noticed her, standing, moving, his eyes lit up like Christmas morning. This was Graves with his guard down. The real him.

The door shut behind him.

He had opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Even Tina didn’t know what to say. There was so much to say, so much to ask – about what happened in Lopez’s apartment, if the feelings in Grindelwald’s memories were still real, and especially, how the hell had he known where to find her?

The buzz of scattered questions and doubts kept her mouth paralyzed, but her body had a mind of its own.

If there was ever a picture of overstepping boundaries, this would be it.

If he were to become livid, she would understand.

But she couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t as strong as he was.

Before her mind could intervene, she wrapped her arms around him, pushing her head up against his neck. She didn’t even get a split second to doubt her judgement as his hands clutched her too, holding her to that moment, and enveloping her in a loving embrace she didn’t think was possible from someone like him. There was a wave of relief, and as the heat that burst from her chest spread through her body all the way to her fingers, she knew this was the right decision; that _he_ was the right decision. It was bliss. For that second, the world itself stopped and she swore she could feel his heart beating; as strong and intense as he was.

“I am so, so, sorry,” he whispered. “For everything. For what I said, for what I did.”

“I think what I said was worse.” She said with a smile, taking in his scent, a unique blend of his cologne and his own musk. The same scent that calmed her as the spell took its hold. She never wanted to let go of it, or him.

“Hm. Yes, I think you’re right.”

She could feel the smile in his voice and hugged him just a little tighter.

“You weren’t supposed to agree with me.”

He shrugged, one of his hands rubbing her back. His touch was soft, but with enough of a grip to keep her tight on him. “Shouldn’t have suggested it, then.”

She started to pull back a little bit to look at him, but his hands kept strong around her body, keeping them together. It allowed her just barely enough space to find his eyes again, and goodness, his barriers were truly lowered for the first time she’d known the man. Whatever doubts she had about the memory Grindelwald had shown her were instantly wiped from her mind. This was the first time she’d seen him truly relaxed; _happy_ , even.

"Never jump in front of a curse for me again," it was said with a faint smile but there was no humor tugging at the corners of his eyes. "Please."

But Tina merely shrugged back, a smirk already forming. "Then don't be in the path of one."

The tip of his nose brushed against hers, just barely, just enough to remind her of how close they were. She could nearly taste the coffee on his breath.

She took a deep breath herself; barely noticing she had been wetting her lips in anticipation. They were merely inches apart, but that distance may as well have been the world at that second. It would’ve been easy for her to push forward; she’d been the first to kiss men before, often to their surprise. But Graves was a different animal. She may have initiated the hug, but this was something he needed to do, it was a decision he needed to come to terms with.

A second passed. Another. His breath hitched. She closed her eyes.

Finally, he closed the gap, his lips melting away any worries or fears still plaguing her heart. He was gentle, almost timid, as if he wasn’t entirely sure of how she felt. But Tina wouldn’t leave him guessing. She pressed against him – all of him – taking control of the kiss and in the process awakened a different beast inside him. In a second, his fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her head wherever he wanted, making it clear he was the one in control, and Tina loved it. She hated that she loved it; that she loved the feeling of a man like him taking total ownership of her and her body. She wanted more; _needed_ more.

The doorknob rattled.

He tensed immediately, his protective arms suddenly falling as he backed into the wall. The door flew open.

Queenie. Of course.

“Tina! What are you doing out of bed? The Healers said you need to rest!”

Tina was still in a daze, her mind moving a thousand miles a minute. She could still feel the tingle of his lips on her, of his fingers pressing into her scalp. Her hair was probably a mess – she probably looked a mess. “Mr. Graves needs help, sis, you know me.”

Queenie finally turned to look at Graves, who was leaning against the wall, hands tucked into his pockets with a completely blank expression that told nothing. It was amazing how composed and even bored he made himself look, especially after she saw the fire burning in his eyes. But nothing fooled Queenie; not quite. Queenie’s eyes went back to Tina’s, the sudden realization lighting up her entire face.

 _Yes, you did interrupt something_ , Tina thought, loudly, on purpose.

“I’ll keep her grounded for the rest of the day, Ms. Goldstein. Just light paperwork, I promise.”

It was the strangest role reversal yet. Normally it had to be Tina looking over Queenie, gently prodding her not to flirt with men that she really shouldn’t have been with. It was always Tina making sure the apartment’s rent was paid on time, that they had bought enough food. Her sister may have been an adult, but Tina always looked after her sister. And now, Graves, the imposing man that intimidated even his own shadow, stood tame, practically asking her sister for permission to take her away. It was surreal.

“If you promise,” Queenie smiled, looking at them before making a hasty exit. “Be careful, you two.”

The danger Queenie was alluding to was not lost on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the kiss gives you an idea of how 'slow' these two plan to take it ;)


	11. Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise visit alerts them to exactly how much danger MACUSA is in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! This was originally a much shorter chapter, but I decided to expand it since it sets up a lot of future chapters.

The Healers were not particularly thrilled about Tina being released so early, but they knew better than to go against Percival Graves, not after what they’d seen. Tina had been hit with a dangerous spell that they barely managed to reverse in time for there to be no permanent damage, but it was Percival who made the breakthrough in getting it out of her, who found the right book and the right counter-spell, as well as the potion that had to go along with it. At that point, it would’ve been an insult for them to not release her under his care, considering she was probably alive because of him.

He looked down at the hidden scars in his hands, at the curse raging inside. _She is alive because of me._

Neither spoke of a word of what happened in the room and it was a damn shame. Queenie had left the door wide open when she walked in, and enough people had passed and seen them that it didn’t feel safe to say anything, no matter how innocent. He’d gotten both of them into enough trouble by not telling her how he felt, and the last thing he wanted to convey to her was that he regretted it. He had made that conscious decision to kiss her – no matter how clouded his head may have been – and he needed her to know that he meant every second of it. Whether they would continue to act on it or not was certainly still up for discussion, given the risks and all, but damn it he had already broken a dozen laws to find her at that dilapidated warehouse, what was one more at that point?

Except, that one could actually hurt _her_.

As they made their way out of the hospital wing, there was no sign they’d be able to have any private discussions any time soon, as a mob of reporters and photographers rushed to them, not much different from his own release from the hospital.

“Is it true that Grindelwald is loose in America?”

“How did you escape?”

“Is he as crazy as he looks?”

Percival rolled his eyes, putting a firm hand on Tina’s shoulder as he guided her through that long hallway, now also full of curious bystanders. “This is an open investigation, which means we cannot comment at this time.”

She was tense. Even under that heavy jacket he could feel it, and he could hardly blame her. There was a battalion of reporters, all with zero manners pushing their unwashed faces and heavy equipment at them with no regard for whatever she may have gone through. They continued to shout questions at them regardless, the flash of cameras booming and blinding them. This would surely make the evening edition of that fucking newspaper.

At first, he didn’t even notice he had been doing it. His thumb pressed against the tight muscle, rubbing it in lazy circles as they made their way past the crowd. If anything, it had been purely instinctual; he sensed she was nervous and his body responded, in the best way he knew. But even after the crowd was behind them and they were safe in the walls of MACUSA, he didn’t stop.

When they entered the halls leading to Major Investigation, an Auror – Dawlish – passed by him with a curt nod, his eyes fixing on Tina and that’s when Percival finally noticed he still had his hand on her shoulder, still massaging the now loose muscle, even though they were well past the media.

If he wanted to hide whatever feelings they had for each other, he was doing a downright terrible job at it, but she was a pro.

As gently as he could manage, he gave her shoulder a squeeze before lowering his hand. It wasn’t much in the way of a sign, but he hoped she understood what he meant, if she even noticed the pressure in the first place.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nell fucking Wallis desperately waved him down.

“Mr. Graves, sir?” He asked, timidly, out of breath. The man was, as usual, a mess, his hair tussled, his shirt untucked and wholly unprofessional. “Bob Ogden just arrived and he asked for you by name.”

No way.

Impossible. He never even got an owl.

“Bob Ogden? _The_ Bob Ogden, Head of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic?”

Nell nodded.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes sir. I just sat him in your office.”

Bob Ogden in America, unannounced. At that moment, he only had two theories: that Bob had discovered something so chilling he had to tell him in person, or that wasn’t the real Bob Ogden. After the events of the past twenty-four hours, the second one terrified him, and was unfortunately the most probable. And the man was sitting alone, in his office, doing Merlin knows what.

“I’ll take over, Mr. Graves,” Tina started and he was pulled back down to reality, to the crowded room in front of him full of Aurors, senior and junior alike. It was odd hearing the woman he just kissed with vigor revert to addressing him like her boss – even though he was - but she seemed a natural. Maybe they could fake their way through this, if he didn’t fuck it up. “While you go see Mr. Ogden.”

That he was not expecting. Surely, the talk with Bob would last more than five minutes; she would not just be babysitting the team, she would lead them. A team that had just suffered a loss of their own and were as demoralized as the day he came back from the hospital just a week prior.

He looked over her a minute, the question hanging on his lips of whether she was ready yet. The poor gal had just barely healed after facing off against that monster, and now she was volunteering to lead the task force he put together. But it was something, he had to remind himself, that he had to do too often at that job. Rolling out of the hospital wing, drugged and half-awake into a team of eager Aurors was practically a requirement of the job.

And, temporary or not, she _was_ the Assistant Director. If anything, this would be a way for her to show Picquery she deserved the position, regardless of whether he’d still be there at the end of the week or not. If she ever wanted the job, for good, she would need to pass as much judgement as he would.

“I’ll have Nell send you my files on the case,” he noted, looking into her eager eyes. Something warm lingered there, stopping his breath for the moment. Maybe she had recognized the subtle gesture earlier. “Take a look, see what you can make out of it.”

She only nodded at him briefly before turning her attention to the Aurors. He wanted to stay with her and be a mentor, but that would have to wait. Really, he just wanted to take one more look at her, to admire the bold, caring woman that he did not deserve before he went in with Bob but doing so would blow everything. If she could fake it, then he had no excuse.

It was time to get to work.

When he got to his office, there was absolutely no doubt that Nell had gotten it right. Bob Ogden – Head of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic. In New York, unannounced.

Percival hadn’t spoken to Bob for months, which was far from ideal. The man, a few years his junior, was the picture of patience and understanding, but Percival knew all too well what hid under that calm demeanor and he pitied any wizard or witch who underestimated him in battle or in court. It was hard not to; the man’s short and plump form, with his eyes hidden behind thick glasses was far from intimidating, especially as he seemed to stumble out of Percival’s guest chair to meet him.

Percival couldn’t even comment on the man’s clothes. Mismatched did not begin to describe the mess of colors and styles that covered at least three different centuries and a dozen other cultures – and was that a _frock_?

“Boy, could I trouble you for some water?” Bob asked Nell, who had been standing by the door. “It’s been a mighty long flight and this old man’s parched.”

“Of course, sir.” Nell responded before taking the large leather folder from Percival, meant to go to Tina.

The door clicked closed behind him, and, as subtly as he could, Percival removed his wand from his pocket as if to put it elsewhere, but cast a silent Revelio at the man. He did not react, and did not change.

Damn. An impostor would’ve been easier.

“Bob. It’s been a long time,” Percival smiled, genuinely, at his colleague as he shook his hand. Bob’s firm handshake betrayed his form. “Did you say you _flew_ here?”

“Percival! By Merlin’s beard, it has,” he said, his smile stretching from ear to ear. He pointed to a brand new, shaggy broomstick at the corner of the room - a Cleansweep One. “Yes, I flew over as soon as we determined Grindelwald wasn’t on the ship. There’s nothing like a good broomstick to get you over the Atlantic. Can’t feel my arse anymore, though.”

Even Percival couldn’t help but to laugh with the jolly man in front of him, but deep down he knew good news would not follow. It was practically unheard of for anyone to fly over the ocean, without proper warning, much less the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. No, if Bob had been in such a hurry to see him, it was not to sit back and have a glass of Firewhisky.

“I should have come sooner.”

His smile faded, replaced with the same guilt-ridden eyes he’d gotten from all of MACUSA. Percival shook his head; _not another one_.

“Don’t get soft on me, Bob, it’s alright.” Percival said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes, but I should have been here after they found you. For that, I apologize.”

“Apology accepted,” Percival said quickly, still believing there really was nothing to apologize for. He’d already heard so many apologies in the past week that at this point he just wanted to forget. “Now please, sit.”

The door opened again, with Nell nervously bringing in two glasses of water. He hadn’t asked for anything, but it was hard to reprimand the boy. He thought of how much he criticized Tina. Thought of the hearing. Nell Wallis surely wouldn’t be at the hearing, but damn it, what the hell.

“Thank you Nell,” he sighed, playing with the delicate glass in his hand. “Keep up the, uh, good work.”

The boy shot him such a confused looked that now he nearly tripped over his own two feet as he exited the office. Maybe now he wouldn’t have to hear Tina telling him about the kid’s crying in the bathroom.

“I can’t imagine you have good news for me.” Percival asked, leaning forward.

Bob shook his head as he downed the last of his water. “I couldn’t trust this to an owl, or to floo. The walls have ears, you know.” He waved his hand in the air, and with that Percival raised his own wand, making the room impenetrable. Even if there had been someone at the door, they would no longer be able to hear a thing.

Percival explained all recent events to him. The apartments, the trap, Tina getting taken, and the traitor. It was all mostly true. He fed Bob the same lie he fed to his Aurors – that he’d known he would take Tina to that warehouse because he would often take him there himself when he was captive. Of course, Grindelwald had never taken him out of his own home, but there was no one there to call his bluff. His memories were his own, he’d given no formal statement, and didn’t plan on revealing any of that information any time soon.

Bob listened intently, pausing every once in a while to clarify something or ask a question. He had to give it to the man, he had always been a great mind to go back and forth with and this was no different.

After he finished his story, omitting any and all details of Tina for good measure, Bob sat back on his chair, his eyes glazing over as he thought about all of it. He trusted Bob, dearly, but to even hint that he was possibly starting a relationship with Tina would be a mistake. The less people knew, the better, for all of them.

“It is exactly as I thought, then,” he nodded, his beady eyes glazed over. “MACUSA has been breached, as the Ministry has been.”

“The Ministry?” Percival’s chin almost dropped.

“Yes. We’ve been keeping the news as hidden as possible to stop widespread panic, but several positions – including high-ranking ones – were infiltrated with his fanatics. The buggers are like ants, bloody everywhere, nearly impossible to stamp out. Today, you caught one, well, I can guarantee you there’s more.”

“Who, from your team?”

“Several Aurors, none of which you know. An Unspeakable – Tomasin – that I thought was good a lad. There was a moment I thought Fawley was one of them too, but I got him well and drunk as a Hogwarts seventh-year and snuck him some Veritaserum. Clean as a whistle, thank Merlin.”

“Well, fuck.” Percival sighed, thinking of his own department, of his own people. He’d known there were rats there since Tina rescued him – otherwise surely someone would have noticed the impostor - but this many? And he left her alone with them.

Bob raised an eyebrow at him. “Is there anyone you currently trust completely?”

“No.” He responded quickly, his mind going to Tina immediately. She helped take down Grindelwald the first time, rescued him, put up with him for the entire weekend. He had to be able to trust her. And he did. He knew, too well, that she was his weakness; his Achilles heel. But Bob would not know. No one could.

“Good. Until you root them out, I would be wary. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that they’re having this hearing about you at the same time he escaped. Not one bit.”

“Don’t remind me. How did you curb it?”

Bob sat up; fixing the parts of his suit that had creased when he sat. “It wasn’t easy, but there is a way.”

\--

In between the busy Aurors looking to make an impression and the thick folder Nell had sent her, Tina had her hands full and a new appreciation for the Director’s job. It had always been easy to sit on the sidelines and criticize, usually to his face, when she had just been an Auror. But now, as she looked down at nearly a hundred pages of interrogation transcripts from the fanatics they caught, as well as preliminary analysis of the Tracing team on both apartments, she had a feeling she would be much more lenient on him in the future. How the hell did the man ever go home?

Out of all the men Tina saw at the warehouse, they managed to capture three of them. The others had apparated away after noticing Grindelwald wasn’t with them; a smart move. Graves had already interrogated them except Jauncey, who was still knocked out cold from the blows to the head. As Tina looked over page after page of the transcripts she was a little thankful there was one less interrogation to go through.

Graves was a thorough man. Graves had stamina. Any question that could be considered even tangentially related to Grindelwald was asked, any answer given one two, twenty follow-up questions. Each interrogation lasted well over an hour, one right after the other, without a break, as he attempted to extract any little bit of information from the goons. Judging by the dried blood splattered on some of the pages, it took more than sweet words to get that information.

Both had recently moved to New York. Selmy, a middle-aged man with a taste for fashion that defied Graves himself, had met Grindelwald the day after he was supposed to be on a ship to England. He’d been swayed that same night and joined the crew Tina had seen, as one of the first members. The other man, Hopkins, barely of legal age, a modern cowboy, met Grindelwald through similar circumstances. They had only met him that week, which gave her a glimpse of how Grindelwald spent his time a free man while they all thought he was on a ship.

Both men came from money, old and new alike. And on the margins of both interviews, a scribbled note from Graves, noting the men also shared another similarity – they were gay. Tina could not begin to imagine how he extracted that information - there were no questions about it - and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

One dog-eared page had her do a double take. It was from the cowboy’s interrogation, towards the end.

_Graves: And what happens if he doesn’t think you’re good enough?  
_

_Hopkins: He kills ya. If you’s no use to ‘em, or a threat._

_Graves: So that’s it, then? He either kills you or he recruits you?_

_Hopkins: Nah, not always. He keeps people. Uses ‘em. Like pets. It’s why you’s still alive._

_Graves: I’m not his pet._

_Hopkins: You ain’t join him, and you ain’t dead. Why you think he keeps you ‘round?_

_Graves: Because I escaped. He wants me dead. You want me dead, I can see it in your eyes, kid. I know you want to kill me. If I put my wand down now in front of you, right now, you’d kill me on his orders._

_Hopkins: We ain’t s’pose to kill ya, Percy. He owns you. You’s his pet now._

Tina’s heart chilled. There were no notes from Graves on that page, and there didn’t need to be.

“Ms. Goldstein,” a woman’s voice erupted from behind her and immediately all chatter in the room stopped. “Aurors.”

“Good afternoon, Madam President.” The entire room voiced almost at once, Tina included.

The continued picture of elegance, Picquery stood tall in the doorway, her hair tucked inside an emerald encrusted headpiece that glowed under the punishing lights of the Major Investigations Department.

She gave them all a firm nod and they continued their work, quieter than before. With a familiar look, she motioned to Tina to follow her.

It had only been a matter of time. But this time, she stopped at the hall.

“I have a meeting with the Minister again in two minutes. Apparently, Bob Ogden came to town.” She noted, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “So I will make this quick. How is Graves?”

“Wonderful,” Tina answered immediately. If she was to lie well, she’d have to pepper it with as much truth as she could muster. “He’s improved. He’s taking the potion.”

Picquery raised an eyebrow, much like Graves had always done to her. “That quickly?”

“I never said he was healed,” Tina clarified, thinking of the laundry list of issues they still had to work on. “But he’s more confident, he’s calmer-”

Picquery narrowed her eyes. “He nearly beat Mr. Jauncey to death.”

“And he would have a week ago,” she said quickly. _And if I hadn’t been there_ , she thought hard. “It’s not unlike Graves to use a little violence to get what he wants, anyway.”

She thought back to the blood on the interrogation papers. It wasn’t surprising, and she was shocked there was so little of it.

“Nothing else? Nothing strange?”

Tina tensed, her mind racing. She needed something; anything. “He sleeps with the light on. Likes to eat in private.”

A pause, but Tina’s gaze did not falter.

“Well, that can be fixed. If that’s the worst of it.” She sighed, sounding a little relieved.

“I agree. I’ll keep working with him.”

“Please. The hearing is on Friday.”

Friday. She had four days to make a miracle happen. She turned away from her, heading down the quiet halls to the privacy of her office.

“And, Ms. Goldstein,” she said, as Tina was about to step back into Major Investigations. “We’ll need your testimony on your time with Grindelwald, no matter how short. I expect it tomorrow. And I expect Graves’ statement this week as well.”

“Yes ma’am.” Tina nodded, rushing to step back into the crowded room before any more questions could be flung her way.

She dodged a bullet. The secret of Graves’ hand was still safe. And now she had a secret of her own to keep – the memory Grindelwald shared, of Graves willing to turn and give information just for the chance to save her life. Even Graves would not know that she had seen that.

Based on his notes, Graves wanted to investigate the two other properties Jauncey owned, as well as question any of his living relatives. He suspected that if the man had been a traitor, then certainly the apple wouldn’t fall far from the tree. She had to admit, it had been a solid idea, but to send the whole team after that? No, too risky, and they’d putting all their bread in one basket. Still, she did not want to step on his toes and cancel the idea altogether.

She looked over the team in front of her, all busy reviewing the files to find any links or breakthroughs they could go on. They weren't speaking much, with the news of what happened to Lopez still hanging thick in the air between them. He was a good Auror, charming and outgoing, the life of the party at most events and no one expected to recover a charred corpse. None more than Patterson, who had been released from the hospital and sent home by Graves for the remainder of the week - and not just because of her leg. Her heart ached for the woman, who had to discover the body of her lover in the middle of a mission. Not many people had known about them, as they kept it hidden pretty well, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if she was in her shoes, discovering Graves, dead. She shuddered; no, it wouldn’t happen. Not if she could stop it.

Graves had even made notes on the memorial service for Lopez, to be held after Christmas. It was one of the official locations, hidden in the depths of the Algonquin peaks in New York. It was symbolic, meant to put them at the top of the world, overlooking the others and Tina had no doubt Graves would make it a nice ceremony.

But they couldn't afford more ceremonies like that.

It was time for action.

She pulled a mix of junior and seniors together and sent them to where Graves originally intended, to investigate the other properties – but not separately. She’d learned her lesson there, the hard way. There were still a good amount left and she assigned part of them to research the marking Grindelwald loved using, and another part to research any and all clubs, bars, and hotels where Grinndelwald may pick out his recruits, or even use it as a meeting place. There was no reason to believe he or his followers wouldn’t be in New York.

Knowing Grindelwald, and what the transcripts stated, he would prefer something classier, with little to no no-maj influence or presence. It would probably include private rooms for discussion, and, may even be a place with controlled security. Possibly through the local mob bosses? It would also probably be a place that had no reason for MACUSA to ever poke around in, so nothing with any past citations or suspicions.

The group in charge of finding the marking came back first, identifying it as something called the Deathly Hallows. They didn’t have much to offer on it, other than the fact that they were these mythological items that some people believed truly existed and would grant them with immense power if found. It seemed ridiculous for someone as intelligent and composed as Grindelwald to believe in such a fairytale, but it was a good clue to have. She sent the team back to look through the archives for any other people known for believing in it, or who ever even cited it in an interrogation or something similar.

When they left, she was finally alone. She sat in front of the Real Time Hex Indicator, wondering if Grindelwald was amongst any of the blinking dots. If only she could know exactly what spells he was casting at any one time and they’d be able to find the bastard. But, she reminded herself, that would be impossible. She’d have to know what spells he was fond of, first, and then she’d have to have the Indicator tell her specific spells and not generic hexes. Totally illegal. If she even suggested it to Graves he would probably lose his mind on her.

A hand fell on her shoulder; firm, but with the gentle caress that was too intimate for anyone else at MACUSA.

Speaking of the devil.

“Where’s the team?” He asked, softly, kneading away any stubborn knots she'd gathered. It was always easy to tell if a man knew what he was doing by the simple gestures – a pat on the back, a handshake. If they were clumsy, or awkward, then surely enough they were the same in bed. And, from the little she’d felt from him that day, it was abundantly clear the man knew his way around a woman’s body. Those hands, anywhere else...

She shook her head; she really should not be having those thoughts at work, in the middle of a major investigation. She needed to focus. _Distracted Aurors are dead Aurors._

“I saw you wanted to investigate Jauncey’s other apartment,” she started, trying not to boast. “I sent part of the team there. The rest, I sent to do research on some locations Grindelwald might use. They’ll have their reports in to your office by tomorrow morning, or else.”

“Or else?” He seemed to stifle a laugh before letting his hand fall. She had to resist the urge to pick it back up and put it back on her shoulder.

“Just wanted to add a touch of Mr. Graves.”

“Happy to be an inspiration,” he sighed. “Bob just left.”

His face had gone pale since the last time she’d seen him, likely because of more than just lack of sleep and food. It was no different than when Seraphina had told them the news, and, while she didn’t expect Bob to have good news, she wasn’t prepared to see Graves so shaken.

“We need to talk, but,” he said quietly, looking around the empty room. “Not here.”

She had a feeling this ‘talk’ was not about the kiss from earlier.

“Your place?”

He nodded, still looking sour.

They picked up the scattered papers Tina had been working on, stuffing them in the leather case. She wasted no time telling him about her thoughts on the other case files he’d given her. He didn’t speak much, as she imagined, he must’ve had his head full, but at least he didn’t look bored. Coming from Percival Graves, that was always a win.

As they walked out, Tina swore she could hear Graves’ stomach rumble. Not surprising; him and Bob probably had not eaten a single bite, and even she barely had more than coffee and snacks.

Before they could apparate away, Tina summoned her own Patronus – a playful blue jay – to send a message to her sister about where she’d be, but with an extra little message Graves did not hear. He looked like he wanted to ask something, but just smiled instead.

\--

Percival wasted no time in walking Tina through every little bit of information Bob had fed him, and she took it all like a champ. They’d sat down on his old living room couch, which certainly hadn’t seen that much action since his uncle Barnabas threw wild parties some twenty odd years ago. The fireplace roared alive as they laid out notes and parchment on the coffee-encrusted table, the warmth of the large room having both of them shedding their jackets and shoes, and Percival loosening his tie.

Neither of them had much of an appetite, but they also hadn’t taken in anything that wasn’t coffee or biscuits in a day. But, before they even got started, an owl came by from her sister carrying a package full of sandwiches – far too many for them to finish in one evening – and he suspected Tina’s message to her sister did more than just tell her where they’d be. He couldn’t complain; sandwiches were perfect. They wouldn’t tremble in his fork and fall down to his plate and make a mess of everything, make anybody – Tina – feel sorry for him. He had resolved to only take a few bites, but after tasting the delicately decorated sandwich, he found himself in the middle of the third one before Tina had even finished her first.

And Tina. She had been through hell that day, but she sat there - shoes carelessly thrown on the floor, a mustard stain on her upper lip - listening to him, taking notes, offering ideas he hadn’t considered. It felt, for the first time in a while, that he actually had a partner who worked as hard as he did, who wanted to see justice carried out for the sake of it, and not just to take home a paycheck by the end of the day.

She cared.

“He recruits them all himself? Personally?” Tina asked, taking one last bite out of her second sandwich and inadvertently adding a second bit of mustard to her lip.

He had to resist the urge to wipe it off.

“Sort of. He has his followers figure out who might be a good match, and they test them. If they pass, they get brought to the big man.”

“Where he adds them to his roster, or kills them,” she said, sitting back with a solemn look. So she had read the interrogation papers. “Can you imagine? Trying to recruit a friend and watching them die because _you_ picked badly?”

Percival snorted a laugh. “Somehow, I don’t think that type of person would care too much.”

“Do you really think they’re all that bad; evil even? Grindelwald did manage a Patronus.” She said as she finally wiped off the last of the stain from her perfectly red lips that he so desperately wanted to taste again.

But they had to focus.

“That still puzzles me. But a wolf, well, that’s fitting.”

Puzzling as it was, it led him to her. At one point he’d probably have to tell her how he really found her in that warehouse, but it could wait, until they at least had the traitor situation under control.

“And Bob says we need to find just one of these guys, and they’ll lead us to the rest?”

“Exactly. The toughest part is finding the first,” He threw the folder down and leaned back as she was doing. "I tried to rip that information from the two, but they wouldn't budge, even under Veritaserum."

“We have Jauncey though.”

The mere mention of his name had Percival’s blood boiling, but he took a breath.

“Incarcerated. Doesn’t count. Has to be someone that’s still hiding amongst us.”

“Fine, but suppose we find him or her. Then what?”

“We watch,” he shrugged. “Bob says they like to win influence. That’s how they recruit, really, even if not outright. They convince people to do their bidding through logic, emotion, and everything in between. It’s why they’re so dangerous. They can convince you to murder your own mother with a smile on your face.”

And they had. He wouldn’t tell Tina that, but it was one of the many disturbing examples Bob had given him during their session, and it wasn’t even the worst one. Grindelwald had a near religious following of people he could use and manipulate to his will, while they all believed they were the ‘good guys’ in the story. It was why Bob had rushed there, hoping that Percival could curb it before they became a silent majority.

Tina closed her eyes, a gentle hum escaping her throat. With only that off-white blouse on he could see her chest rise and fall with each breath, like normal, as if she hadn’t been knocking on death’s door less than a day ago. That traitor had the nerve to send that spell towards him, knowing exactly how painful Percival found the idea of broken bones. They wanted to break him in front of his men, and they could have, if not for Tina.

But was that all they had done to her? What wasn’t she telling him?

“The Healers told me the only damage you suffered was from that spell,” he finally said, his voice tense. “Is it true?”

Her eyes popped open and she looked at him with the same concern he did to her. “He didn’t hurt me. Grindelwald, I mean. Or any of the other men.”

He exhaled sharply, straightening up again as if a literal weight had lifted off his shoulders. At least that curse was the worst of it.

“Did he just talk to you the whole time?”

“Yes. We ‘had a chat’ as he put it.”

“He was a fan of those,” he sighed. “What did he say?”

He was terrified of her answer. Grindelwald had put him at his worst; seen him at his worst. The idea that he could have shared some of the darkest days in his life with Tina was terrifying. There were some memories that were meant to be buried, and if she knew just how pathetic, just how weak he sounded during his last days, all respect would be lost. She’d never look at him the same way again, and he wouldn’t even be able to blame her for it.

And then, out of nowhere, the worn leather of the couch crunched as she slid over closer to him, her knee now pushing against his. Her hand slid over to his, each determined finger resting over one of his own and for a second he forgot to breathe.

“There is nothing he could have revealed about you or what you went through, that would change my mind about you. Alright?”

A beat. His breath hitched.

It him all at once. She understood. She was open to this. She wasn’t afraid, of him, of the monsters he fought to keep caged. Somehow, she was open to all this, even with no obligation to be. And as he had made the decision to make that kiss, she had just made a much more powerful decision.

He couldn’t help but smile, and raised his thumb to brush against her hand, as she had been doing to him. A benefit of having the bigger hand. “Alright.”

“He wanted to know what you’d told me,” she continued, embracing the heat of his hand. But she paused for a little too long, and it left him wondering. “And he told me how much you liked me. That’s it, really.”

He furrowed his brows, his eyes retreating to nothingness as he delved into his own mind. There was a lot to be analyzed in those simple topics, a lot that didn’t make sense. Why was he so concerned with what he’d revealed? Or was he more concerned with what he didn’t? And why care so much about divulging those feelings from years past; he must have known Tina knew about them, so what was the point of wasting his breath on it?

“Odd,” he finally murmured after what felt like an eternity. There was a time to dwell on that, but it was not then. “Very odd. Even for him.”

Silence again. She dragged her soft, careful fingers over his, feeling every small wrinkle, every tiny bump. He hated to admit it, but he truly enjoyed those little touches, no matter how insignificant. They may as well have been a gourmet course to a starving man.

He knew there were no visible scars due to his transfiguration, but he also knew from his own experience that she could feel them under her fingertips, still there, keeping him in check. A constant reminder to both of them of the type of torture and punishment their target was capable of.

“I heard the hearing is on Friday.”

Fuck. Picquery must have told her; that damn woman.

“It is,” he said finally, his voice calmer. “They sent the memo this morning. Not that it matters, since the whole thing might be full of Grindelwald supporters chomping at the bits to get me fired.”

“This means we have four days to bust these traitors to make sure you keep your job.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d expected some blind optimism about their chances – his chances – especially from her, but she was still fighting. Still wanted to fight for him.

She cared.

He turned his hand over, careful not to push her away in the process. She caught on quickly and laced her fingers between his, giving him the same gentle squeeze he did to her shoulder earlier that day. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so alone; so overwhelmed. It was still a hell of a battle, but for the first time he felt like he had a chance of winning.

But, what would _she_ ‘win’ out of this? All of this could get both of them in trouble, and while his odds of staying at MACUSA were deplorable, hers were pretty good. Could he risk destroying her life, for a little bit of happiness?

“Tina,” he started, his grip tightening. “You do realize we could both be fired over this.”

He wanted this. He was sure of it. But he had to give the choice to her. Anything else would have been despicable.

“Yes.” She breathed, looking up at him.

A tinge of relief. But he needed to make sure.

“Because you have a promising career here. You’ve been reinstated, you’ve been given a promotion-”

“Until Friday.”

“Regardless. If you are uncomfortable taking that risk, I do understand. I won’t hold it against you, and we’ll never speak of what happened.”

“Are _you_ comfortable taking this risk? I’m just an Auror at the end of the day, you’re the Head of Magical Law Enforcement.” She gripped his hand a little tighter.

“Possibly a retired one, if Friday goes badly. You can still succeed.”

Now she retreated into her mind, and a part of him feared what she’d say when she came back. He meant what he said, no matter how painful it would be. It was the risk he faced when deciding on that kiss. Out of all people, Percival was no stranger to risks. Success as a Senior Auror, to Chief Auror, and eventually Director required a comfort in dabbling with the unknown. And he knew, that to be able to have the happiness that she could bring, he’d have to be comfortable with the possibility of her saying no. Still, the potential benefits far outweighed the potential broken heart. So, he took the risk.

“What if there was no hearing?” Tina postulated. “What if your job wasn’t on the line?”

That was a question that he never expected. He hadn’t taken the chance when times were good, when he knew of a life that hadn’t been tainted by Grindelwald’s existence. If he had never been captured, he never would have taken the risk. But now? If the Friday hearing was suddenly cancelled and Grindelwald and all his people captured?

“Yes,” he said, quietly. “I’d still take the risk.”

“Then yes.” Tina answered, nudging him with her shoulder.

Relief again. Against all logic, against every fiber of his being that told him to abide by the contracts he signed, he wanted this. He wanted her, and she did too. The risk he was taking now changed into a different beast, but this one felt more manageable at least. Emotions were unpredictable, but the law, the law he could take advantage of.

He would find a loophole for this. Percival had spent enough time with his nose in every legal book at MACUSA to be aware that every law had some type of loophole. Some were easier to violate than others, but with enough creative thinking, anything was possible.

And boy, would he find it.

They stayed there a bit, hands tangled together. She had her eyes closed again, but this time he knew she wasn’t in deep thought, but he couldn’t begin to think about sleep. Mentally, emotionally, and physically his body ached for sleep. It begged for it. But his body’s fight or flight response would not let his eyes shut, no matter how tired he was.

“Tina,” he whispered and she blinked awake immediately, pretending that nothing had happened. “You should get some sleep.”

“Not tired.” Tina lied. She lied so hard that he immediately turned to her, eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

“There’s no shame in sleeping, Tina, you worked hard today. Take a break.”

“I’d rather just stay here. If you don’t mind.” She nudged herself a little closer to him, his arm barring anything closer. That would not do.

He released his hand from hers, swinging his arm back and letting her into his space. The extra room had her leaning into him, like a real couple might do, on a couch, in front of a fireplace – though probably with less graphic images of murder on the coffee table. She’d been eager, but at the same time he could sense through her careful touches and gestures that she was still a little hesitant and he understood why. This was new territory, for both.

“Well, if we’re staying here,” he said, softly. A little alcohol never hurt. With a wave of his wand the cabinet at the other side of the room rattled, splitting out an old bottle of Ogden’s Firewhisky – something Bob had given to him years ago – and a couple of tumblers. “Firewhisky?”

“Sure. I’ve never actually tried it.”

Oh, this was precious. He could already see her reaction to the drink in his mind, but kept his expression calm.

He only barely filled an inch of her glass with the orange liquid, but as she brought the glass to her lips she hesitated a moment, probably at the smell. But, like a trooper, like the Tina he knew too well, she downed the whole thing immediately, her face twisting as she coughed.

Percival couldn’t help it. Watching this young witch trying to down the forty-two-year-old drink was too much and he laughed.

“You alright?” He smiled, feeling the warmth spread through his body. He couldn’t have stopped smiling if he wanted to.

“Oh wonderful, I think I know what it feels like to be a dragon.” She coughed again, but still gestured for a refill, which he obliged.

“It takes some getting used to. The first time I tried it I was still in school, in the common room, after winning the Quidditch cup. My sixth year. I was so shocked by the taste I sneezed and it all flew out of my nose.”

She laughed into her glass and he couldn’t help but smile, watching her cheeks redden, feeling the playful slap on his knee. Her eyes had lit up; looking up at him with such affection that he never wanted to leave that couch. A few strands of hair fell to her eyes and she brushed them back in place and he wished he had fixed it for her.

“Did it burn as bad through the nose?”

“Worse!”

“Well, I think I’ll just stick to these two for tonight.” She said as she polished off the glass, her face still twisting as she swallowed.

“Probably a good idea. I don’t need both of us drunk tonight.” He mused, pouring himself another glass.

“Agreed. I am not the best drunk.”

“Oh, I know.” He muttered, enjoying the burn of his drink.

Tina froze. She was clearly not expecting him to remember, given how much he had drank too, but Percival never drank enough to forget.

“The office party last year. Remember?”

“Ah, _shit_ ,” Tina whispered, covering her face again, now red again. “Yes. Yes I do.”

Percival chuckled again. Somehow, someone managed to convince him it would be a good idea to throw a department holiday party and he agreed. How, he didn’t know, but he agreed to it. And next thing he knew, the alcohol was flying and Tina, this normally composed animal, started dancing with the other Aurors. A little too wild. He tried to save her from herself – or at least that’s what he told himself as he pretended not to feel an ounce of jealousy - and she managed to throw up all over his brand-new shoes.

“I’m still really sorry about that.”

“I know, you’ve told me.”

“And you still don’t forgive me?” She asked, jokingly nudging his ribs with her shoulder.

Percival was not one to waste an opportunity and hugged her to him, fingertips lightly caressing her side. It was impossible to miss the shudder from her body as a response, and he smiled at the idea of her reacting so strongly to such a gentle touch. This would be a joy to explore, eventually, if she let him.

“Well, considering how much I loved those shoes, it takes at least two rescues from homicidal maniacs before you’re forgiven.”

“Two?!”

“ _At least_ two.” He clarified.

“Ok, definitely no more drinking tonight then. I don’t want to rack up any more future rescues. That’s too much pressure.”

“Nah,” he huffed, taking another long sip, his throat aching as his mind wandered. “You’re doing great.”

“You must be drunk already. Too many compliments from Mr. Graves in one night.”

“I like to think I’m improving,” he joked. “I only caused two Aurors to cry in the bathroom today.”

She raised her eyebrows, giving him her best ‘shocked’ impression. Her lips had parted just a little bit and he found himself yearning to kiss her again, but he held back. He had an odd feeling that if he did that, he wouldn’t be able to stop until the rest of their clothes were on the floor. “Only two? That’s a one-hundred percent improvement over last Friday.”

“See? Improvement you can measure.”

He took another sip of his firewhisky and by the time he put his glass down, he found her head resting against his shoulder. Deep breath. Her arm rested over his leg, her fingers dancing gently along his knee and he took another deep breath. Maybe drinking, with her there, was not the best idea.

The conversation fell silent. He let his fingers drag up and down from her shoulder to her hands, squeezing her frame to his. He let her warmth mingling with his own, and almost forgot about the murderous man and the traitors they had to root out. That danger was still very much present, and here he was, distracted. But, as he felt her breath on his neck, he couldn’t find it in him to care.

The firewhisky probably helped with that, too.

He leaned his head against hers, closing his eyes. Every little breath gave him an intake of her perfume and little by little he found himself calming. He had a young, beautiful, woman sitting next to him that cared just way too much about his well-being. There was no way he deserved her. She deserved someone younger. Less damaged by the world. With as much spirit as she had. She was risking her entire career for someone like him? How could he let her?

No. He had to nip that self-doubt if this was going to work. Tina herself said it; he wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t. He trusted her judgement, and she chose this, she chose him, for a reason.

With a sigh, he opened his eyes. She hadn’t said another word to him yet. Was he boring her?

“Tina?” He whispered, touching her arm as gently as he could. Her breathing was steady but she didn’t react.

She was finally asleep.

But his touch did not wake her. She turned more towards him; her head fell, slightly, now resting on his slowly rising chest. With her body a little turned towards him, she brought her arm up, loosely grabbing one of the buttons of his waistcoat.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had another person use his body as a pillow, nor could he remember the last time he enjoyed it, if ever. The right course of action would have involved waking her, taking her to bed to get some proper rest while he did the same. It was the proper thing to do. The gentlemanly thing to do. And yet, as his hand continued to graze over her arm, memorizing every muscle, every groove hidden under her blouse, he pushed those old ideals away. Those were traditions and customs of a time long gone, with a different set of women and they did not befit the bold woman next to him, or whatever they were embarking on. None of this had a guidebook, and he was torn on whether that excited or terrified him.

A sigh.

He pointed his wand up and the room darkened, the fire of the open fireplace the only source of light. The flames danced in the distance, giving him just enough light to still see the soft features of her face, or the way her hand clasped the corner of his waistcoat as if she was afraid of him leaving.

He needed to let her sister know she was safe, with him, but there was no proper way of explaining that without coming off like a cad. He’d just have to tell the truth and hope for no howlers or owls or, hell, a surprise visit.

With a whisper, his silver hawk flew out of his wand, landing on his outstretched arm.

 _Queenie, Tina fell asleep on the couch. I’ll watch over her_ , he thought. _And, thank you for the sandwiches, they were delectable._

He pushed his arm forward, releasing the bird into the air, and through the nearby wall.

As gently as he could, he pulled her just a little closer, feeling the warmth of her skin under the thin clothes. It was so tempting, too, to wake her, for a different reason and he wished he had a cigarette nearby to curb the thoughts that alcohol brought to light. Another deep breath. He rest his head back, closing his eyes as he embraced the body of the woman lying against him. Feeling her presence with every breath, he pushed away all thoughts of Grindelwald, of the traitors, of the case and focused on her. He focused only on her face, her laughter, her drunken stumbles. He could just barely hear her breathing, feel it against his body, and for once, he felt safe.

Turns out sleep was not that hard to come by after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bob Ogden is a real person! He was indeed the Head of MLE responsible for apprehending the Gaunts in 1925. His involvement actually led to the existence of Voldemort (inadvertently). Fawley was the Minister at that time.
> 
> The Cleansweep Broom company was founded in 1926 and the Cleansweep One,a racing model, was their first. It's no surprise Bob picked it to go across the ocean as quickly as he could.
> 
> On another note, the reason I selected the Patronus for each person was based on the symbolism normally associated with them, in mythology and even Native American culture. And yes, it's completely on purpose that both Tina and Percival have birds. To summarize:
> 
> Percival/Hawk - Watchful, perceptive, intense, smart, protective
> 
> Tina/Blue Jay - Determined, energetic, curious, assertive, talkative
> 
> Grindelwald/Wolf - Cunning, smart, leader of a pack (in his case), social, master of communication


	12. A Liability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graves comes to terms with his limitations. Tina steps it up as up as they prepare for their riskiest mission yet.

Tina took a sudden gasp, opening her eyes to darkness.

Her makeshift bed shifted; wet, cold, but alive.

There was a sharp intake of breath and it was not from her.

She was on the couch, with Graves, arms wrapped around each other and _Mercy Lewis, how did she end up on top of him?_ Every inch of him, and now her, was drenched. The little light from the remaining embers in the fireplace danced across his face, highlighting his clenched eyes; his entire face twisting in pain caused by something she could not see or even understand.

 _Shit_. Another nightmare; he didn’t take the potion.

“Graves,” she whispered, tapping him on the chest but he did not respond. He was there, suffering, and she didn’t know what to do but she had to act. The couch shook, the floorboard rattling beneath it and she couldn’t help the rush of blood to her head prompting her to _wake up and_ _act, Tina!_ He wouldn’t like this but she had to – she smacked her palm against his cheek, now dripping wet and freezing and _he needed to wake up!_ “Graves!”

His eyes shot open but there was no one there. Even in the faint light she could see they were hollow, unfeeling, cold – like staring into a soulless abyss. He suddenly grabbed her wrist and she gasped as he squeezed it past the point of comfort.

“It’s me,” she pleaded, as her wrist ached, her voice shaking in panic. “Graves, it’s me.”

He blinked, life flooding back into him with a gasp for air as his eyes stayed fixed on her. They were his eyes now, with the fierceness the world feared and the passion that only Tina knew.

His grip loosened, but she kept her hand pressed against his cold cheeks, offering whatever warmth she could.

“He knows,” he gasped before releasing his grip. Even with his hand gone, it still ached. “He knows where I live. What if, what if-”

“He’s not here,” she reassured him, wiping off the beads of sweat gathering in his hairline. His breathing still had not calmed. “It’s just us. Just me. We warded everything when we came in.”

“It’s dark, cold,” he gasped again nonsensically, the fear heavy in his voice and for a moment she suspected he wasn’t completely awake. “Just-just like… What happened?”

 _Just like the briefcase_ , she finished for him, her heart sinking.

“The fire went out – do you want me to light it?”

Her eyes, now adjusted to the darkness, saw the panic still plastered on his tired face. This was worse than what she’d seen that Friday night. Much worse. She could only imagine the horrors he must have seen, that still haunted him, and would still chase after him for the days to come. Would they ever show him mercy?

“No,” he mumbled, finally. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

His whole body still shook, the only sounds still filling the empty room being that of his rapid breathing. His skin was still cold to the touch. He was not fine.

“If I get you some Dreamless Sleep, will you drink it?” She asked, timidly. She wanted to get up and grab something – anything, but the heavy arm around her suggested otherwise.

“Please,” he whispered, but his grip did not fade. _Please?_ Percival Graves asking for medicine; a sure sign of the apocalypse, or the immeasurable pain Grindelwald caused. Grindelwald, that fucking bastard. If she had the chance, she would end him. She began to move, but his grip immediately tightened around her waist. “Stay.”

Stay. If only he knew that she didn't plan on leaving. Tina raised her hand in the air and silently _Accio_ ’ed a vial from her purse. It rattled a bit across the room before falling into her fingers.

His hands shook, worse than when she saw him eat, but he took it, dropping the mostly full vial on the floor where it clinked and rolled away somewhere into the empty house.

Even then, his body still shivered; probably from the wet clothes. She pressed her hands against his chest, mumbling a simple drying and heating charm. The magic spread from her fingers, mingling from the expensive fabric down to his skin and hopefully, bringing him some relief. It made him shiver less, but the fear was still heavy on his face, his breathing not quite right as his eyes searched the room for an imaginary boogeyman. There was, of course, something her mother had done for her when she had nightmares, and something she used to do for a young Queenie. It was probably silly to think it would work on a grown man, but it was worth a try.

She reached her hand up, past his cheek and through to his scalp. He flinched at first, but stayed still, letting her explore the thick head of hair. The short hairs on the side almost pricked at her fingers, giving way to the longer strands at the top, now loose and soft and falling to the sides.

It was not quick, but as her short nails worked their magic on him, the heat started to flow back through his body and he slowly began to return to normal; his breathing became deeper and his heart decelerated to a near-human speed. And finally, after much coaxing, his eyelids fell on their own. Regardless, she continued, her wrists tired but the thought of healing him her sole motivation for staying awake.

With her head now back to his chest, only moving with his deep breaths, she knew the potion was finally kicking in. But still, she continued, drying his thick head of hair with the friction of her repetitive motions, and not with magic. Magic was useful, quick, but it wasn’t what he needed at that moment. He needed her.

And now she was the one barely able to keep her eyes open, and when sleep finally took her, her hand still stayed tangled in his tousled hair.

\--

Tina opened her eyes to a piercing orange light. The streak came through the narrow slit between curtains in the far window, and of course, landed right in her eyes. Millions of miles away and somehow, a direct shot at her. She shifted, burrowing her head into…a pillow?

She pushed down, feeling the hard, even surface of the old couch. Something heavy and soft slid over her shoulder. A blanket – flannel? It was hard to tell, but it certainly carried that woody cologne she’d grown to love, as did the fluffy pillow.

But where was he?

“Graves?” She called out, her voice still hoarse from sleep.

Silence.

He didn’t; he couldn’t. He seemed so on board with everything, eager even. And he just left, without saying anything. He left.

She sat up, still clutching the blanket, still taking in the scent embedded in the fabric from years of use when something on the coffee table moved. It suddenly flew into the air, the sound of unfolding paper filling the otherwise quiet room. The seemingly living letter floated in front of her, taking the crude shape of a face with the same thick eyebrows she was all too familiar with. A howler? He left her a _howler_?

“Morning Tina,” the paper spoke, in his voice. It sounded tired. “I enchanted this to wake up when you did. I’m at the office. I warded the place before leaving, but you can apparate from the living room,” he continued and she rolled her eyes. At the office; typical. “See you at the office.”

The paper lingered in front of her a bit, as if it wanted to say something else, before falling to her lap. The same words were inscribed in his usual messy handwriting and she was thankful he thought to enchant the thing or otherwise she’d have no idea what was written. The only thing she could confidently make out was a PG at the bottom.

Well, he didn’t _leave_ leave, but her chest still hurt a little at his decision to go so early, especially after the heart-to-heart from the previous night. She wasn’t foolish enough to expect him to be the clingy hearts and flowers type, but she hadn’t expected to wake up alone either. That decision, unfortunately, spoke volumes.

“Tina? Teen, are you awake?” Queenie’s voice rang from the coffee table.

The mirror.

She put the blanket down, looking for her purse. All the papers and the big folder were gone – Graves must have taken it – leaving the small clutch alone at the corner. She stuck nearly her whole arm down the thing before her fingers grazed over its smooth surface, pushing aside a change of clothes Queenie insisted she keep, various emergency healing potions, and of course, a hairbrush.

“Yeah, I’m awake, I’m coming over now.” She said as she pulled it out.

Queenie smiled at her from the other side, already dressed for work.

“Alrighty, hurry up, I want to make breakfast. Omelet ok?”

“Fine, sis, thanks.”

She stuffed the small device back into her purse with a frustrated sigh.

Graves was not an easy man. He never had been, never pretended to be. The Grindelwald imprisonment only made things harder, but it wasn’t his fault. The man had been through hell probably for even longer than that – the little she heard of his parent’s death was tragic too. Really, she never heard of much good happening to him. He needed time, and space, and she needed to be patient, as her sister had suggested so many times before, even before MACUSA.

Somehow, she would.

Tina gathered her coat and shoes, taking one final breath of the blanket he left her, remembering that the past night wasn’t an imagination. She had kissed him, had sat on the couch with him, drank with him, had fallen asleep on top of him. They agreed to try _this_ , whatever it was. He did not regret it.

_He did not regret it._

She apparated away from the large room and landed back in her own, smaller but familiar dining room that she hadn’t been in for days now, and it was as if it were hit by a tornado. There was laundry everywhere, but clean and dirty, dishes, magazines and even an unopened Christmas present from 1918. A broom swept by her feet while the plates, napkins, and various utensils levitated out of their cabinet, setting themselves on the dining room table with ease. Three days gone, and chaos. At least she was making an effort.

“Fell asleep on the couch, huh?” Queenie smirked over at her from their kitchen, cracking a few eggs into a pan that was worn to the bone with too many years of use.

 _Oh, shut it_ , Tina thought, remembering all the times her sister snuck off with someone. She dropped her things onto the nearby couch, completely unconcerned with all the items spilling out of her purse or that her coat was a wrinkled mess that needed to be washed and ironed.

“I can smell him from here!” She called out and Tina blushed, trying not to think about him not being there that morning. But it was impossible not to let the tendrils of doubt grasp at her heart. “Don’t be upset, Teen, it doesn’t mean anything. Men do that, sometimes.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighed again before heading to the bathroom for a quick shower. Graves wasn’t just any man, though.

“Whenever I passed him yesterday, he was thinking about you, you know.” She yelled over the closed door and Tina couldn’t help but smile, taking a deep breath of his scent still stuck to her blouse and trousers and neck, and well, nearly everywhere. She almost didn’t want to wash it away, but if her sister noticed, everyone at MACUSA would and they didn’t even need to read minds.

“Hey sis?” Tina asked over the hot water, her mind back at MACUSA. “Have you heard anything about Graves or his hearing?”

“Yeah, people are upset. They think it’s unfair,” her sister yelled back. Interesting. This was great, but, unexpected. Tina would’ve thought the opposite given his fearsome reputation. “I think the heroic looking pictures on The New York Ghost helped.”

 _Oh boy, The New York Ghost,_ Tina thought, remembering the picture she saw of Graves rushing her unconscious body through the MACUSA lobby. As if she needed more to be embarrassed about.

“But, yeah, that’s it. Nothing loud. I’ll keep listening for it.”

She sighed, stepping into the hot water and washing away the stresses and pleasures of the past day. They needed some kind of breakthrough; they only had 3 days. Her hopes rested entirely on what the Aurors managed to find, and what her sister managed to hear.

It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. They had no choice.

\--

They apparated to the office in record time, beating the clock by barely a minute. Abernathy, of course, still made a comment to the tune of ‘cutting it close’ to Queenie and the sisters couldn’t help but roll their eyes to each other after he had passed. At least, as Queenie reminded her, Abernathy was on Graves’ side of this whole thing, so they had to tolerate him. He wasn’t a bad man, just a little too uppity for his own good.

Plus, they needed people they could trust, and Abernathy, so far, didn’t appear to be a traitor.

What surprised her, though, was how supportive Queenie was of the relationship. She worried for them, sure, but she also correctly noted that she hadn’t seen Tina that happy for years – something that was impossible to dispute – and had never seen Graves that happy in her whole time working there. And then she just had to bring up the reminder of them using a contraceptive potion or something and that’s when Tina decided to part ways with her before her entire body could turn bright red. She could face Grindelwald directly, but talking about _that_ , in the middle of MACUSA? No. For the sake of Merlin, they’d barely even kissed!

The Auror office was already alive by the time she came in, the sea of desks completely occupied by Aurors eager to make their mark on this case. But, unlike Graves, she hadn’t quite earned the nods of respect that came when she passed and she understood. A little part of her felt like she didn’t deserve any of that praise anyway; she hadn’t exactly proved anything yet. But she would.

She found her way to her usual desk and, to her surprise, saw Roscoe DeSoto sitting nearby, penning a letter, with a dark bruise across his neck, but mostly healed for someone who got trapped in a burning closet. When he noticed her, he stood, fear plastered on his face like Graves that same morning.

“Ms. Goldstein!” He started with a curt nod. “I’m sorry I let you down in the mission. If I had been a little smarter, I wouldn’t have ended up in that closet, you wouldn’t have gotten captured-”

“It’s alright, DeSoto,” she said, draping her coat over her chair. “We all make mistakes, as long as you learn from them it’s all that matters.”

She immediately thought of all the mistakes she made early on, and even the ones she made not so early on.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded, sitting back down. He tightened his tie with a hand before fixing his already neat hair into place. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Not yet,” Tina sighed, looking down at the pile in front of her. From the looks of it, they were all the analysis she asked the Aurors for the previous night on potential hotspots Grindelwald would frequent, and a smaller pile with references to the mysterious marking. “Let me review this, and I’ll let you know.”

Somewhere, in those papers there was an answer, and she would find it.

One criteria for narrowing this down sat at the smaller pile, of people who knew anything about the ‘Deathly Hallows’. It was barely a pile, and as she scrolled through the eyewitness testimonies, transcripts, profiles, and even newspaper excerpts she couldn’t help but sigh. Two men were criminals she arrested years ago in a no-maj trafficking bust that Graves sentenced to death himself, and a third was someone who’d lost his mind in an obliviation incident that past year. The little background information on all of these showed no known or living relatives, which was suspicious in itself.

The fourth piece, at the bottom of the pile, was even more useless; it was just a picture with no case or background information attached. In it, there was a young man she didn’t recognize – the annotation had no names or a location – with a necklace dangling on his neck with the Hallows symbol. A couple of other men came into the frame, smiling, with the same necklace. It would’ve been a wonderful clue, but without a name to the face or the name of the place, it was worthless.

There was a rugged brick wall behind him, and, in the right corner, a vaulted brick and steel arch. She’d seen that before, somewhere. The men weaved in and out of the picture, on a loop, and she glared at them, the bricks, the steel beam, the shadows passing in the background. All ordinary, all possibilities of a New York bar. She shook her head; just staring at it would get her no answers.

She was nearly through that picture for the twentieth time, when she looked up to hushed whispers around her. At the end of the hall stood Graves, finally out of his office for the first time that day – looking dapper as usual, with no stains or wrinkles or signs there could ever be any – talking to one of the Aurors before entering his office.

He did not look her way, even for a second.

 _What are you up to, Graves?_ Tina thought, looking back down to the other pile in front of her. She needed to focus and not stare like a schoolgirl with a crush.

She turned her attention to the other pile, putting the picture into her pocket. Maybe her sister had an idea.

There were a lot of potential places Grindelwald could use. It shouldn’t have been surprising, after all, New York City alone had thousands of restaurants and bars, so of course a good number of them catered to the type of people Grindelwald liked to manipulate to his twisted ends. The Drunken Dragon? Too small. Hair of the Dog that Bit Me? Located in a largely no-maj neighborhood. And if Grindelwald preferred some back-room deals then really, any restaurant or bar or club could work.

This was impossible. With a sigh, she pushed the papers away and looked at the paper mice she had received; but one was not ordinary. It was red and blue, the paper tougher than the regular parchment.

_Ms. Goldstein - Don't forget your statement, and Graves'. We need his memories._

Damn. Picquery did not forget a thing.

She could already see Graves’ reaction to what she was about to do, but neither of them could avoid it at this point. Whether he liked it or not, the memories he kept – the ones that had him shaking entire buildings at night – were valuable to the case. There was a reason Grindelwald had been so concerned with what Graves had revealed, and if her theory had any merit, it was because there were clues in there to whatever he was planning, even if it wasn’t obvious to him. Maybe, something in those memories would point to where Grindelwald could be.

And, it would help with the hearing, no matter how ‘rigged’ it appeared. It would show healing in his part, and Merlin did they both need some healing. She finished her request for his testimony and his memories, and folded it, sending the mouse on its merry way.

He would probably burn that poor mouse.

When she wrote her testimony down, she avoided the bit about pensieve, as much as it went against what the President told her to do. At that moment, her goal was to protect Graves and get him his job back and that memory did nothing. She also edited that bit out about Graves ‘loving’ her, substituting it for ‘respecting’ instead. The part about Graves making deals also had to go.

She looked down at the doctored letter in front of her, and of what she asked of him. _Well, damn it_. It had so many ‘edits’ that it barely resembled what actually happened that night. And she expected Graves to reveal everything he went through? Hypocrite.

Before she could even feel like she accomplished anything her sister came by, reminding her it was time for lunch. She didn't deserve food, not without a single worthy breakthrough.

The mess hall was, predictably, packed. Located on one of the top floors of the Woolworth Building, the circular room was distinctive for two reasons – the floor-to-ceiling window that went around the entire room, showing a panoramic view of the city, and for only having one table. It started as a round table on the very center, spinning out in a spiral pattern that went all the way to the outer walls. It was some artistic concept from the past president, and Tina did not know anyone who liked that thing. It was supposed to project togetherness and teamwork or _something_ , but really, it was annoying as all hell and not just for the idea of having to share the space endlessly, but finding a quiet spot was impossible. At least Queenie had come to join her, so she wouldn’t be alone, or in bad company.

The Goldstein sisters managed to get there early enough to grab a coveted spot by the outer edge, where she could almost see the ocean in the end of the sea of building. The temperature had risen a bit over the past few days, melting most of the snow and giving way to the soft drizzle outside. If she didn't have so much on her mind, it may have been peaceful.

But it wasn’t long before they had company. Roscoe came quickly, his tray, like Tina’s and most other Auror’s, stacked with burgers and other easy to eat foods that were more a sign of bad habits than an unhealthy taste. Two other Aurors flanked them. Marissa Travers, a no-bullshit dark haired witch Tina had gone to school with and Ted Smith, who still carried that grimace from the day Graves reprimanded him in front of the others.

“Still can’t believe he made me write a fucking report on Grindelwald,” Ted mumbled into his sandwich. “Took me four hours – I could’ve been huntin’ the man in that time.”

“Yeah I’m sure you would’ve bumped him off in those four hours.” Roscoe teased from across the table.

“I wasn’t the one trapped in a closet like a damn fish,” Ted huffed. “Can you believe this guy”

Roscoe rolled his eyes but ignored Ted. Everyone in and out of the department knew the story already.

“Don’t be so hard on him, Teddy,” Queenie pouted. “He’s already had an earful.”

Ted smirked the same way most men did at Queenie whenever she spoke up. He probably thought he was being clever, but she knew what her sister was doing. “Just messin’ around, doll. No hard feelings Ros.”

“It’s fine, we’re all on the same team here,” Roscoe commented, crossing his arms. "We have to stick together. For Lopez."

Everyone grew a little quieter at the remark but nodded in agreement nonetheless. Smith was the first to break the silence, his lips falling in a tight line. "Do you think Grindelwald himself did it?"

"Probably not," Tina sighed, thinking back to the case notes. "He doesn't seem like the type to get his hands dirty."

"How's Patterson doing?" Queenie suddenly asked. "Her sister wasn't in today."

Roscoe shook his head. "Not well, I mean, how would you feel if your lover was brutally murdered - and you found him?" Now it was Tina shuddering again, vowing to hug Graves just a little harder the next time she saw him. “But, it won't happen again. Goldstein’s gonna crack the case for all of us anyway.”

Tina nearly laughed. “Aren’t you optimistic today. Maybe we should pull you out of the closet more often.”

“I think you’ve got good leads.”

Marissa threw something at Roscoe with a smile, faking a whistle. “Stuck on Tina, DeSoto?”

Now the whole section whistled – even Queenie – causing poor Roscoe to nearly shrink.

If only he knew he’d never have a chance; not with Graves out there, eating in his office probably. Still, she didn’t want the kid embarrassed. “Unless you lot can tell me where the hell this picture was taken, or who’s in it, we’re stuck.”

She pulled out the picture of the smiling men and dropped it in the center of the table. The hooting and hollering stopped as they each fought for control of it, even Queenie.

“Restaurant for sure,” Roscoe said immediately. “That shadow in the back looks like a waiter – see the circle here’s a tray.”

“And new, I think,” Ted noted, flipping the picture. “Look at the steel here. It’s welded.”

“How can you tell?” Marissa challenged, flipping the picture to face her. “Looks riveted to me.”

“Nah, it’s definitely welded – these ain’t rivets,” He pointed at the corner of the picture. “My father’s in construction. Seen it.”

Tina had to admit she did not know a thing about construction, or what rivets even were.

“Hey, that waiter’s shadow ain’t moving right,” Queenie noted, putting a finger at the shadow behind the suspects. “See? It looks like he’s floating from the left to the right like a ghost, not walking.”

“Floating,” Roscoe said, straightening up. “Like he’s on a platform.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Marissa mumbled.

“The Silent Owl?” Ted asked. “I’ve heard all tables were on lifts that move around when you eat. It’s supposed to be a pricey joint, but it closed a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah! Tommy took me there once,” Queenie said suddenly, picking up the photograph. Tommy, the Obliviator with the attitude of a new Auror and the brains of Broom Inspector. “Now that I think ‘bout it, it kind of looks like the entrance, by the bar.”

“You guys are making a lot of wild assumptions about a damn picture,” Marissa commented, rolling her eyes. “Plus, even if it is The Silent Owl, it was closed. Failed a health inspection.”

“Who owned it?” Tina asked, her heart racing. They were actually getting somewhere, somehow.

Silence.

“Probably one of the families,” Ted said, eyes gazing off into the distance. “Wouldn’t be surprised. Gnarlak I bet.”

The crime families. They had an uneasy truce with most of them, since everyone at MACUSA from the Directors down to the house elves frequented many of these joints after work. The terms of said truce were never drawn out but it was understood that no one at MACUSA was to be so much as touched as long as raids and arrests never disrupted business too much. It was corruption – no doubt about it – but Picquery never seemed too eager to do anything about it, so no major action was ever taken. Plus, with Grindelwald on the radar, they had bigger problems.

But a restaurant owned by a crime family closed for something as trivial as failing a health inspection? Not possible.

She wanted to go back to her desk and finish the research, but her sister’s hand flew over hers, holding her there. “Enough talkin’ about this case guys, it’s lunch! You guys sound like Mr. Graves.”

Ted rolled his eyes. “Merlin, not him.”

Tina had to stop herself.

“So don’t be him, honey.” Queenie smiled before looking up at Tina with knowing eyes.

She heard something. She knew something. But Tina played along as her sister led the conversation away from work and to the most trivial topics she’d ever guessed at. It was impossible to even pretend to be interested in the conversation as she tried to guess what it could have been, or who would’ve said it. Graves was always suspicious of Smith, but at the same time he had participated in the conversation. Maybe Travers? She did seem pessimistic. DeSoto? But he also participated and willingly gave information.

When their hour was up, she went down to the Wand Permit Office with her sister under the guise of helping to sort out some enchanted rain over the archive cabinets. No one cared enough to question it.

“What is it?” Tina whispered as soon as they got into the empty, but clustered room. “Who is it?”

Queenie cast _Homenum Revelio_ around them before quickly locking the door. No response. “I think Travers is up to something – she panicked when you guys were talking about the restaurant.”

“She panicked?” Tina asked, a little too excitedly. “What else?”

“I don’t know, she’s guarded, like Graves. I just felt panic from her, like she was freakin’ out. This was really loud.”

Panic. Then, they were onto something with that restaurant and either Travers was behind it or she was a part of it somehow. Was it possible that they had a glimpse at their traitor? If she was, then, like Bob warned, they would need to watch her; trail her. She would lead them to the others.

She had to tell Graves.

\--

Percival had to wonder if someone cast a _Geminio_ curse on his paperwork because, as soon as something finally landed on his outbox, another paper mouse would sneak into his desk. Another ten-page search warrant needed his signature; did it need ten pages? A wizard needed permission to open a magical bakery and somehow that was his problem now. An Auror sent him a piss-poor report full of mistakes and how the hell did this imbecile – Craster – get past training. It never ended. He’d been there since six in the morning and it felt like nothing of any significance had gotten done. To think, he could’ve stayed curled up with Tina on the couch if it wasn’t going to make a fucking difference anyway.

He shouldn’t have left her, but the Dreamless Sleep barely gave him another couple hours of sleep and he was terrified of having another nightmare right in front of her. He could only take so much shame for one night. It was hard to remember everything that happened – he was half-asleep – but he could see the fear and worry in her eyes when he woke up from that nightmare, and it killed him. The only other thing he sort of remembered was the feeling of her fingers raking through his hair. It felt wonderful, sure, but the thought that he needed to be catered to like a child was fresh on his mind when he woke up again and the idea disgusted him.

Pathetic. The great Percival Graves, unable to get even a single night’s sleep without a nightmare, without someone _petting_ him back to sleep like a dog.

He threw the latest report across his desk, knocking off the miniature threat exposure clock he kept at the edge. The sound of a crash followed by the clinks of a thousand tiny pieces scattering onto the floor confirmed his suspicion – he broke it. Of course, he fucking broke it. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as his body enjoyed the darkness more than he expected.

Fuck, he needed more sleep.

 _You need her_ , a little voice whispered and he shook his head as if to respond to it.

There was knock at the door; loud, rapid.

He sighed, lifting his wand to pick up the pieces of the broken clock and re-assemble it, like nothing had happened. “Yes?”

“Mr. Graves – it’s Tina.”

 _Mister_ Graves. He smirked. It had felt like a lifetime since she addressed him so formally.

“Come in Ms. Goldstein.” He said, slightly amused at their charade.

The door opened and she nearly fell in, slamming it closed behind her with a bang that had him straightening up. Now this was unusual even for Tina.

She skipped the guest chairs completely - as if they weren’t even there - and he couldn’t help but twitch as she hovered over his shoulder with a pile of papers she was desperately trying to organize. Her perfume was the first thing to hit him, completely taking his attention off of the cases and the new paper mouse scurrying across his desk. It was the same intoxicating brand, as sweet as she was, bringing him nothing but good memories. Hell, if it weren’t for that perfume, he probably wouldn’t have been able to go back to sleep that night. That smell was a drug, and when it combined with her natural flavor? Intoxicating.

The largely unbuttoned shirt, with a swinging necklace that drew attention to her chest did not help the situation.

“I think I know who our traitor is, and where they meet.” She noted, laying out the papers carefully in front of him.

She- _what?_

“How?” It was all he could say, all thoughts of her figure pushed aside like his clock had been as he leaned forward on his desk, eyes going from paper to paper.

She did not wait for him to get acquainted with the paperwork before she began spitting out more rushed information than he’d heard from her, maybe ever. It was not the cleanest explanation, but she did take him from the mysterious picture, to the lunch with her sister and the other Aurors, and back to the list of possible restaurants. The one they cited, The Silent Owl had indeed been closed while he was recovering in the hospital by Picquery herself. It was one of the joints owned by Gnarlak and his crew and Percival had been mildly surprised the goblin never complained about it. The last time he closed one of his bars he made so many threats to Percival that he nearly had to arrest him. Idiot.

Tina suspected the restaurant was still very much open inside. It was not the worst theory he’d heard. What better way to keep a place secret than to pretend like it’s closed?

And, it was oddly suspicious for a marking that was so rare, to be seen within the walls of that restaurant. That, and the panicked feelings of an Auror, combined with the idea that Grindelwald may have enjoyed the atmosphere of the fancy place, added to the suspicion. That was their best lead. They were making a stretch, sure, but it was all they had.

“I think I should go there, tonight,” Tina said, choosing her words carefully. “If this is right – if I’m right – then she’s going to lead us right to him, and possibly more of his followers.”

He leaned back on his chair, looking down at the mess in front of him. He understood her enthusiasm and her eagerness to do something, but this felt rushed. It felt wrong. It came too easy.

“Might be too soon. Too risky, to go now. We need to research.”

“I think now is all we have,” she said quickly. “If she’s worried, she’ll make a mistake. By tomorrow, who knows where they’ll be? If she’ll even lead us to them?”

“We don’t have enough people we can trust for this yet.”

“And we won’t until we see who’s there, or who isn’t.”

He took a deep breath. This was still a questionable lead, and, Travers – he would never have suspected it. She had always been a good kid, and to think she was in the same rank as someone like Jauncey? It was infuriating. What could Grindelwald have possibly told her to get her to turn on her government? Her own people?

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a bad idea. Really, he just didn’t want to throw Tina into this. If she was right, she’d be in the middle of Grindelwald and all his cronies – again – and the idea of her getting captured or hurt made his chest ache. He couldn’t see her in that hospital bed again, barely clinging to life. This wasn’t even her fight. Grindelwald wanted _him_.

And what if it was all a trap? He suspected Jauncey's apartment had been. He couldn't let her walk into another one.

“Fine. But I’ll go,” he volunteered, turning to look up at her as he stood. “After the evening Auror meeting, we’ll distract them, tell them we’re looking into a completely different place. I’ll dismiss everyone and follow Travers. If you're right, she'll still go to them but she won't be worried she's being tailed, not if she thinks you forgot about the whole thing already.”

She shot him that famous look of disbelief when she was about to defy one of his orders. It was only missing- oh, no, there was the famous arm-cross too.

The little act of insubordination annoyed him to no end.

“Sir, you can’t go on this mission.”

“Excuse me?” He responded quickly, crossing his own arms in stubborn defiance, trying to appear bigger. It worked in most of the Juniors, but Tina only stood straighter for it.

“The place is completely controlled by Gnarlak and his people. You know he doesn’t allow wands inside the private rooms and you know that’s probably where we’ll end up.”

He took a deep breath again, clenching his fingers. He knew where this was going.

“I can sneak one in.” He suggested, thinking of all the ways they could hide a wand, even inside the restaurant to be retrieved later, or in his clothes or _something_. She stepped closer, her arms nearly bumping into him.

She frowned. “Remember what happened when Val tried that last year? They still haven’t found his left hand.”

Graves grimaced. “Fine, no wand. It won’t become an issue.” He said through his teeth, hoping she wouldn’t keep fighting him but, of course she would, she was Tina fucking Goldstein.

She practically gawked at him now. He should have seen this coming.

“In the past, yes, because you didn’t need your wand.”

 _But now you do_ , he thought, completing her sentence for her as an unmistakable pain ripped through his chest.

“There’s no reason to believe any of us will need to act – wand or not. This is a stealth mission.” He reasoned, knowing that what he suggested could be downright suicidal – what the hell was he _thinking_ even suggesting that idea? A few months ago, he would’ve slapped an Auror for even bringing up the idea of throwing safety out the window to go on such a mission, and now he was so desperate to prove himself useful, to put himself on the line so she wouldn’t that he was suggesting the unthinkable. _What the hell, Percival._

Tina spent far too much time around him, and knew his idea was bull. “We’ve also never done a stealth mission to one of these joints undercover, while traitors lurked in MACUSA and Grindelwald was loose,” she responded quickly and he could not fight that. “And, let’s say a fight does break out. You’re a sitting duck; a liability.”

_A liability._

Well, then. His breath caught, replaying the word, over, and over in his head, all attraction gone.

_A useless liability. Can’t protect yourself. Or anyone. A liability._

It hit him harder than he expected. Deep down, he had known this would get in the way of his work, at some point. What he did not expect, was how quickly it would happen, or how weak he would suddenly feel. For the first time, he couldn’t be a part of his team. He couldn’t protect Tina. He couldn’t protect MACUSA. He was grounded.

Her hand reached his shoulder and he flinched, unsure of what he felt exactly, but it was not the same thrill from before. “I’m sorry, Graves, I just mean-”

“I know what you mean,” he tried not to sound as pathetic as he felt. “Go back to your desk, I need to think this over.”

“Yes sir.” She sighed, and for a minute it looked like she was about to reach out to him. But, she stopped herself. Before he could even react, she was out of his office and _out of his life_ , a nagging thought interrupted, closing the door gently behind her.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw something – to release the magic he could feel burning in his fingertips, ready to be unleashed at the nearest object or person dumb enough to cross him. Was he really about to send her out there, to the wolves, because he couldn’t defend himself properly?

Fuck. Fuck Grindelwald. Fuck all of this.

With his fingers still itching, he only barely grasped the edges of his wand before a blast of red shot from the tip, sending the repaired threat exposure clock flying into the nearest wall where it exploded into a million pieces.

At least that time he meant to do that.

\--

“Sis, I really think it will help.”

Tina desperately tried to add a touch of organization to her sister’s desk as Queenie filed a case full of old wand permits into the archive. There was a stamped and approved permit on the bottom of a pile that dated back to January of 1924 and she was suddenly all too aware that her intervention was the only organization that desk had seen since the previous administration.

“Don’t ya think it’ll make it worse?” She suggested, sending a paper flying across the room to a different archive. “I mean, he’ll be watching, but he can’t do a thing.”

“He already won’t be able to do anything, it’s just,” she sighed, trying to find the words. “With the mirror it can at least let him feel like he’s there, like he’s doing something.”

“Or that he’s useless,” Queenie gave her an uneasy look. “I don’t know Teen. I know you’re worried about him, but this ain’t easy stuff.  Not using a wand to him, it’s like he’s less of a wizard, less of a man.”

 _Not to me_ , Tina thought.

“I know,” she scoffed as she floated an entire four-foot pile of old applications to the shredder. “But it’s a step in the right direction, I think. As the Director he’s supposed to supervise anyway.”

Queenie shrugged, walking back to her desk. “If you think so, sis. You know I would’ve given it to you anyway.”

“I figured. It’s just nice to talk it over with someone first.”

She handed Tina the mirror, but didn’t let go immediately. “Be careful out there, Teen. I don’t want to see you in the hospital again.”

Tina wanted to tell her sister more than anything that it would all be alright, that she would be careful, that she would make it back safe, but, who would she kid? If Graves approved, this would be the most dangerous mission she’d ever gone on, alone. One slip up could mean death. But, if she succeeded, it could crack the case wide open for them.

For him.

Instead, she just gave her sister a tight hug. It said more than anything she could muster, or even think.

“Tina?” Graves’ voice boomed through the room. “There you are, fuck, I’ve been looking all over for you – I said to wait for me at your desk.”

It was hard to tell if he was more upset or annoyed. Probably both. Worried? Definitely.

“Yeah, I know, I made a detour,” she said, rolling her eyes as she pulled away from Queenie. “Sorry.”

“Don’t do that,” he growled, nodding to Queenie. He brushed his hand through his hair a few times before motioning for her to follow. “Come, I only have three hours to get you ready.”

Ready?

He approved. The mission was happening and she couldn't decide if the thought thrilled her or terrified her. Both. Definitely both.

She followed him out of the clustered office, staying close, but there was no warmth in his body language or his voice, or anywhere. When they stepped into the lift, he did not even look at her, keeping his eyes trained on the nothingness in front of them, and she realized he was probably as scared of this as she was.

He took her to the Auror training center, empty at that time of day, and wasted no time setting up targets and obstacles and different scenarios she could face while she was in there. And now, as she stood in the center of the room with no wand, shooting spells at targets while he judged silently from behind her, she almost wished she hadn’t volunteered for this. Her _Expulso_ hit the center of a target but when she looked back to Graves he did not appear even the least bit impressed.

“The whole thing should have exploded,” he noted, under his breath, repairing the hole in the current target. “Focus. Again.”

And she did. Again, and again, until her wrists hurt and her forehead dripped with sweat. But there were no breaks, and there wouldn’t be any.

The targets changed, resembling men and women carrying wands, meant for her to practice disarming. When she’d disarmed them handily enough, the targets changed to be aggressors that would actually shoot back with a spell. Defense was easily her least favorite of the exercises, since it implied she was losing the battle and needed to run or hide. It was not a position she wanted to be in – not at in that restaurant, not with Grindelwald – but it was, unfortunately, necessary.

Her best exercise, concealment, came next and it didn’t take him long to move from that. Being able to transfigure her features, and even to become almost completely transparent was something she was all too familiar with. Graves recognized this quickly and moved on, now removing all the objects and targets from the room.

Two hours had passed, and she wasn't sure how much she had improved. An hour to go. _Deep breath, Tina, you can do this._

“That’ll have to do,” he sighed, still looking uneasy. “How good are you at physical confrontation?”

“Not terrible,” she said, hoping it would never come to that. She’d fought off attackers before, but it was always messy and somehow more tense than the standard duel. “Why?”

“If all else fails, it’s all you have,” he said, taking off his jacket. It floated over to a nearby table before folding itself. “Here, I’ll show you. Stand in front of me, don’t face me.”

So far so good. Easy. She heard him step forward, heard his breathing, and was now keenly aware of his presence. “Now what?”

Easy. It was just Graves. Right behind her. Easy.

“I’m going to grab you. The best way to defend against this is to step forward, turn your body, and swing your elbow up and back towards my face.”

Oh boy, oh boy. She did not want to find herself in that situation, ever. She was tall, sure, but she wasn’t physically strong, and then-

His arms flew around her stomach, pulling her, and she froze, her body reacting in an all too incorrect way to this gesture. It took far too long for her to react but as she turned, she found her back pressed into his warm chest and preventing any type of movement.

“You need to step forward first, and don’t take so long. You need that gap for the hit.” He whispered into her ear, his chin brushing against her shoulder with such precision that she shuddered. It took all her focus not to turn and kiss the man.

He let go of her and stepped back, the imprints of his fingers still hot on her stomach. If he knew what she was thinking about, he would be livid. This was life or death training and here she was, distracted.

_Deep breath, Tina. Show him._

His hands wrapped around her stomach again and as much as she wanted to step back into his build, she took that step forward and swung her elbow as hard as she could. She did not expect the shock to her bone, or how quickly he’d let go, or the guttural yell that erupted from behind her.

“Ah, _fuck_ ,” he gasped, hand over his nose as a string of blood fell from his nose, through his lip and down to his chin. “That was good. Fuck.”

She broke his nose. Damn it, it was supposed to be just a demonstration and she just had to go on and break the man’s face. He picked up his wand and pointed it to himself, the cracking of his nose fixing itself filling the room, but for the first time in their training he actually looked impressed.

“I’m really sorry-”

“No, that was good. Let’s keep going.”

He wanted to keep going?! He’d have no unbroken bones left by the end, if the pattern continued.

The drills, unfortunately, only got more intimate. He showed her how to deflect an attack from the front and every time he laid his hands on her shoulders – strong, with a tight, controlling grip – she faltered, and either he was none the wiser, or he didn’t care because he said nothing. She imagined his mind was on her well-being, and as concerned as she was about that too, it was impossible not to react. The next move was on taking down an attacker who wrestled her to the floor, and Mercy Lewis, that one almost did her in.

The move had her down, with her back against the floor as he grabbed both her hands – holy mother of magic – and she had to get rid of his grip, while pushing him back with her knee. Easy, if she wasn’t so starved for him. Easy, if his touch wasn’t electric against her skin. Easy. He pulled her leg up, with a completely stoic face, as if this wasn’t the most touching they had ever done, and placed it against his stomach to show her what to do. But his hand stayed on her thigh, his fingers brushing against the taut muscle as if he knew exactly what to press, almost as if he was trying to tease a moan out of her.

He had to know what he was doing to her. There was no way that the king of perception, who could find a single typo on a ten-thousand-word report, would be so oblivious. Yet, as they moved from drill to drill, the only feeling she picked up from his eyes was an immense amount of fear; similar to what she'd seen after his nightmare.

“And then you pull your arm back, while kicking me away. Got it?” He said, pulling her out of her mind.

No, not at all. All she got out of that was how easily he could hold her wrists down, and how tight his midsection was from the little she felt with her leg. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Good. Again.”

She barely had enough time to react as he wrapped his hands around both her wrists and it was go time again. Ignoring the heat from her body, she swung her arm like he taught her, pushing a knee into his stomach before kicking off of him, this time without breaking anything.

And if he made her do that again, she would wrap that damn leg around his waist and bring him in not push him away.

“I think you got it,” he breathed, standing back up. Oh, she got it alright. “Last thing. Disguise.”

Another half hour had passed and she felt her heart beat just a little faster. It was almost time.

It was time for the disguise. One of the most important exercises all new Aurors went through was creating, at a minimum, three different personalities to use on undercover missions. There were no restrictions, they just had to be convincing. Tina’s favorite, and the one that would make the most sense for what they were doing was that of Susan MacDonald, daughter of an Irish immigrant from a wealthy family. It allowed her to drink to her content, without even needing to perfect the Irish accent.

Graves made her transfigure into the disguise, a red-headed, green-eyed version of herself with a few adjustments to her features that made her face longer, and her smile a little wider. She had to admit, fashion had always been a weak point, but Graves, well, he was no slouch. He quickly transfigured the blue dress she’d made into something darker, silkier, with only one strap instead of two. The fabric shortened above her knees and she couldn’t help but tighten up her legs but he did not even flinch. The dress tightened around her chest and stomach as he fitted it more to her body. There was no way he did not notice the intimacy of what he was doing, even a little bit. No way.

When he wasn't looking, she pulled out her mirror, transfiguring it into a delicate glass necklace that would allow Graves to see everything she did. The magical properties of the mirror would stay - that much she knew - and no one would be the wiser.

The story, if she was asked, was that she despised the no-maj after an attack from them left her family dead, leaving her a silent supporter of Grindelwald and his goals. Now, the intention of the plan was for Tina to just observe and hear as much as she could, without getting too close. Grindelwald was still a skilled Legilimens and Graves did not have time to hone her Occlumency to an acceptable level, so she was to actually avoid him at all costs. But it was good to have a motivation planned, to help her character.

Twenty minutes had passed. She was in disguise, she had trained. It was time. Deep breath. It was her biggest mission yet; her most dangerous, but she was ready. She had no other choice.

By the time they’d rehearsed every detail from the way she had to walk, to the accent, down to sitting at the table, it was time for the evening Auror meeting. This was when Graves would mislead them, citing a different set of bars and restaurants they wanted to investigate, prompting Travers to let her guard down enough and go to The Silent Owl – at least ideally. In the meantime, Tina would go and watch over the restaurant to see who went in, and how before making the move herself. Graves was terrified of it being a trap, and wanted to make sure the restaurant wasn't just another abandoned 'warehouse' for her to get trapped in, and she agreed.

With only a few minutes to spare before the meeting, he took her down a back entrance meant for no-maj deliveries, where no one would run into them and suspect anything. The hallways became progressively colder, the magic fading with each step before they reached the bottom of long staircase, a single locked door leading out. This was it. Whether those three hours were sufficient or not remained to be seen.

He pushed open the heavy metal door with a screech, leading to the dark alley behind the Woolworth Building. He opened it just enough for the winter air to seep in, but not enough for her to be able to squeeze out.

“Wait,” she said, adjusting to the higher voice that went with the disguise. She reached into her purse and pulled out Queenie’s mirror, slipping it into his hand. “My sister and I use this to talk. I incorporated mine into the necklace. You should be able to see everything I can, and we can talk to each other if need be.”

He looked down at the mirror, seeing an image of his own face and grinned. It was the first time she’d seen that handsome face smile all day and, for a moment, that little happiness replaced whatever fear was lurking under the surface. Because he’d be there too, even if not physically, because he trusted her with this mission, with their fate, and she would not let him down.

She pushed at the door, but before she could step out his hand fell on her bare shoulder, the one without the strap. It didn't need to be forceful, like in their training, even though their purpose was the same.

His hand lingered, brushing against her collarbone before falling over her heart and she could feel her breath hitching. The touch itself wasn’t sensual or even bold, but it meant more to her than anything else he’d done. “Come back to me, this time,” he said, swallowing hard. “Don’t leave me alone with these idiots.”

They both released a chuckle, but it did not ease the tension, or the fear that they both shared. Even with the training, even with the mirror, she could feel the anxiety oozing off him, causing his eyes to darken and his hands to shiver, just a tiny bit. It wasn’t much, but she took his hand, giving him a warm kiss where she knew his scar was. “I was trained by MACUSA’s best Auror. I think I’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t easy, but she released his hand, stepping out into the cold. It was time to prove herself. It was time to get an upper hand on this case, and on Grindelwald. This was their battle to lose.

Before apparating she looked back to the doorway and found Graves still there, watching patiently with the mirror in hand.

He was late, to his own meeting. Graves was never late to anything.

_I'll come back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are in for quite a mission together. All of Chapter 13 will be dedicated to it, so sit tight


	13. The Silent Owl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I know the only compass that I need  
> Is the one leads back to you  
> And the burning blisters on my feet will call  
> To hold me as I'm close to fall  
> Away from the home of your arms I stray  
> Off the radar and into harm's way
> 
> -Compass, Jamie Lidell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning against intense fights, blood, and violence/death. On the upside, expect mild fluff, humor, and these two learning to work as a team.
> 
> The Silent Owl is basically me thinking - what if Disney made their restaurants into a ride? And there you have it. Enjoy!

There was not enough Firewhisky in all MACUSA to calm Percival’s nerves.

He poured himself another, his third that evening. The orange liquid filled that glass three quarters of the way up before he lifted the light bottle, dropping it down on the desk with a bang. Third glass. Right, maybe in count only.

They were still waiting. An hour must have passed since he dismissed the other Aurors. A long, painful hour of watching the outside of The Silent Owl through that mirror waiting for someone, anyone to walk in or near it. Travers still hadn’t shown her face, or anyone for that matter.

It was a major piece of unused real-estate. The restaurant stretched nearly the whole block, taking up the first floor of a four-story brownstone in a quiet corner of Greenwich. Any no-maj walking by it would merely see the boarded-up windows of what used to be a run of the mill Italian restaurant – just another one that didn’t quite make the cut amongst the city’s hundreds of options - and thusly, would pay it no mind. At night, it was even easier to ignore, with the few working streetlamps barely illuminating the rapidly degrading signage over the door. Ray’s Fine Italian, each word in a different color of the Italian flag. What a joke.

And with the light drizzle outside, there wasn’t even anyone around to notice any of it.

“Still keeping warm?” He sighed, fidgeting with the glass in his hand.

The image in the mirror shifted right, moving from the front door down the street to face the hum of a passing car in the adjacent street.

“Yeah,” she responded, her voice filling the room. “Still drinking?”

She knew. He released a breath, a little too loudly, tapping his fingers against his desk in a pointless pattern that did nothing to silence the ache in his chest.

“Yes,” he sighed, taking a long sip of the fiery drink. He closed his eyes, savoring the bitter taste against his tongue and the burn against his throat before allowing himself to swallow it down. “Still drinking. Third one.”

“Nothing’s even happened yet.” She said and he could tell she was smiling.

“That’s the problem, it’s the suspense,” he mumbled, putting the empty glass down by the near empty bottle. “The quiet before the storm. I don’t enjoy it.”

“It’s peaceful, though.”

_Peaceful_ ; he almost laughed. Not the word he’d use to describe their current predicament.

“Being on that couch with you. That was peaceful.” He mused aloud, a thought that wasn’t supposed to escape the confines of his mind.

“We can do it again, tonight. As soon as I get back.”

He leaned back into the chair, unable to stop the silly smile from creeping up on his face, or the warmth from erupting from his chest, replacing the fear and anxiety, if only for a second.

_Maybe we can do more than sit this time_ , he thought, not quite drunk enough to let that one out at least. He’d already gotten some ideas when he was pinning her down to that training room floor – and boy did she enjoy their little training a bit too much. It was impossible not to notice; not with how her eyes lit up the second he put his hands on her. There was even a moment where he swore he heard the slightest of moans leave her lips, and it was almost enough to light the fire within him too. But his mind was so focused on getting her ready, on everything that could go wrong – and rightfully so – that he didn’t allow himself that little indulgence. Not yet. Not until this was over.

Suddenly footsteps. Faint, distant, but drawing closer, each step removing the little warmth he found and replacing it with fear.

The view shifted again, Tina stepping back and taking further refuge in the abandoned alley, behind an old garbage can.

He leaned forward, watching intently as a couple came into view from the other side of the street. The man, almost a foot taller than his date, had on a standard leather jacket and a brown fedora, not unlike any of the other men in New York at that time of night. The lady, leading him with a gentle tug of the hand, sported a long fur coat, that went to her ankles, matching the soft navy of her hat. They paused in front of the building a moment, looking to all sides before squabbling with each other over something he could not hear.

And then, like that, they made their way down the steps, taking a quick glance around before making their way to the door. With two bodies blocking the entrance, it was near impossible to see how they were getting in. That would be a problem. Surely, Tina couldn’t just go up there and knock.

There was a quick burst of white light, and the holed up wooden door gave way to darkness inside. They stepped in quickly, the door about to close behind them.

“Hold the do-”

A nearby pebble, not much bigger than a coin, flew into view, flying right behind the couple and stopping the door from shutting, just by an inch. “Way ahead of you, boss.”

Not much to say to that. He poured himself another glass, not taking his eyes off the mirror as Tina edged closer to the door.

He really needed to trust her more. She’d made mistakes in the past, sure, he wasn’t perfect either, but it didn’t mean she was incompetent. Still, it was hard not to worry, not to want to watch over her shoulders. Tina wasn’t just another Auror. She was _his_ Auror.

She looked around, both ways, before his field of view shifted downward as she stepped down those same steps. This was it. Neither of them had any idea what they would find behind that door. He tilted his head back and took the whole thing at once, the fire nearly eliciting a growl from him.

The old door creaked. Darkness. He couldn’t see a thing, could only hear the echoes of her footsteps.

This was wrong. This was a trap. She was walking into a trap; he never should have let her-

“Are you ok, Graves? I can hear you breathe.”

Shit. He held his breath immediately, not even realizing what he had been doing.

“Fine,” he gasped, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He reached for the Firewhisky bottle but his shaky hand bumped it, causing the now empty bottle to topple over his desk and roll into the floor, smashing the same way his clock had a few hours earlier. “Everything is fine.”

“Lumos,” she whispered, and suddenly, he could see again. “I cast _Revelio_ when I walked in, no one’s here.” She reassured him.

Another deep breath. She knew what she was doing.

_Stop being overbearing. Stop worrying. Just stop, Percival. Stop._

The bright light of her wand illuminated the remains of what looked to really have been an Italian restaurant, after it had been hit by a band of wild pixies. There were dozens of square wooden tables, all with various scratches and wear on the wood. Some even had names and profanity scrawled on. Chairs were thrown all over the floor, most upside down, some missing legs. He heard the sound of glass cracking and knew that she must have stepped on something broken.

The couple was nowhere to be seen. Hell, it was as if they had never been there.

“What do you think?” She suddenly asked, turning a corner that led into the empty kitchen. There were brown rust marks on the floor, ingrained from years of use, where the equipment must have been.

“My first thought was a portkey,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair. But, if the location was indeed elsewhere, they would need multiple portkeys. Inefficient. “How many exits?”

A pause. “Two – an emergency exit by the kitchen, and the front door.”

“Good. Potential hiding places?”

“A couple of cabinets in the kitchen. Nothing in the main room.”

Far from ideal. Way too exposed. “Ok. Always keep that in mind. Always know how to escape.”

“Yes sir.” She asserted before finishing her overview of the once bustling kitchen.

She needed to find that entrance sooner rather than later. If someone else came in, they’d likely cast _Revelio_ too and that would bust her, no matter how well she hid or disguised herself. They were on the clock.

He found his breathing speeding up again. _Deep breaths, Percival. She’ll find it._

The urgency was not lost on her. She left the kitchen and stepped back into the main dining room. There was another hall in the back, probably leading to the bathrooms.

Except, it wasn’t just the bathrooms. At the end of the hall there was a door for men on the right, and another for women on the left. And in the center, tall and ugly as sin, a cabinet. It did not fit the décor at all; its design gothic and black and just all wrong. Tina must’ve noticed too because she quickly made her way to it, the light of her wand illuminating the old contraption, revealing intricate patterns of wood and metal in the corners, giving way to a latch.

It was something he’d seen that before, once. Many years ago.

“A vanishing cabinet,” he whispered, slowly. “I think it’s a vanishing cabinet.”

“Sounds terrifying.” She noted, her fingers falling over the patterns.

“It is, if it’s broken,” he noted, tapping his fingers against his desk. “But, if it works, if it has a twin, it’ll take you somewhere else.”

_To Grindelwald, probably_ , he thought, chest tightening.

“Do you think this is what they used? The couple?”

He tapped a little harder, the tips of his fingers hurting from the contact. “It could be.”

She turned the handle and the door opened with a loud clank that had him jumping in his chair, his nails digging into his desk. _For fuck’s sake, Tina, be careful._

“Do I just, you know, step in?”

He twisted his fingers into his hair. If the vanishing cabinet didn’t work, it could hurt her, it could kill her. If it was a trap, if-

_Fuck. Stop._ If it was him, he would’ve gone in already.

“Yes. Step in and close the door.” He tried to say as calmly as he could.

The inside was just as dark as the rest of the place, and when she whispered a _Nox_ , it was pitch black again. He didn’t know why he did it, but he pulled his wand out. There was nothing he could do with it, not from that distance, but somehow it made him feel a little more in control of the situation, no matter how futile.

She closed the door, and suddenly, there was noise. Music, talking, yelling.

Light.

Wizards and witches alike chatted around that cabinet and several others all lined up in a row, in what seemed like a reception area. They were all dressed in colorful, brand-name clothes Percival knew would cost an average person their yearly salary for a single outfit. This wasn’t just a gathering place for the crooks and con artists of the wizarding world; it was meant only for the upper echelon of that society, a safe haven to make new connections and reinforce existing ones. These men and women did not have Wanted posters at MACUSA, and most Aurors would live and die at their posts without ever even knowing their names, much less their misdeeds.

There was an unmistakable fog in the area, probably from the cigarettes in the mouths of every person there and Tina coughed as she stepped through the crowd. Thankfully, no one seemed to be the wiser for it. He really needed to teach her about the finer parts of life.

The small reception area, decorated with elegant curtains draping over nothing at all – there were no windows - gave way to a short hall that spread into an enormous bar that oversaw the dining ‘room’. In the distance, he could see hundreds of tables on thin, brick platforms floating in the air as if it were perfectly normal. He had to admit, even in his current state, he was impressed with the joint. It looked like a place he’d take Tina, on a date. If they were ever allowed to be seen in public together.

“Will you be dining with us, ma’am?” A woman asked behind a podium, her little red dress practically glued to her body and he had no choice but to stare.

“I sure will,” Tina responded. “A small table will do, please.”

“Dining alone, miss?” A suit suddenly stepped into the picture and Percival found himself gripping his wand just a little tighter for it. “A fine creature such as yourself shouldn’t be alone in an evening like this.”

_Really?_ Was that what he was using on her? What a fucking tool, with his brown suit – _who the hell wears brown to a five-star restaurant_ – and that goatee with too many whitening hairs. An old tool, at that.

“Honey, you slay me!” Tina laughed, pushing her hands against the man’s lapel. The man had the audacity to look down and he got a good look at the bastard’s shining green eyes; eyes that spoke of intentions he knew far too well. “But I’m waitin’ for someone.”

“Shame,” he said, taking one of her hands for a kiss and Percival found himself shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He didn’t like his face. He didn’t like his style, and he certainly did not like the way he was looking down Tina’s dress. “Well, if the lucky guy doesn’t show, I’ll be at the bar.”

Percival stood, indignant.

Oh, he would show alright.

\--

The Silent Owl was by far, the largest restaurant Tina had ever stepped foot in.

The hostess – Tessa, with the bob cut, a dazzling smile, and a red dress far too short to be appropriate in any other establishment – led her down a narrow hall that gave way to a space that stretched out as wide – and as deep – as the MACUSA main lobby. Each table, no matter how big or small, had its own platform that slowly moved its way around the restaurant in what seemed like a completely random pattern, weaving its way up, down, and in and out of a hundred of brick alleyways that lined the walls on all sides. She could see into some of these little holes-in-the-wall and some led into halls with portraits and other art, some had musicians, and others had no sign of being populated at all.

It would not be surprising if secret meetings took place inside those alleys. But which one? There were more than she’d have time to explore.

One of the platforms, housing an intricate table with only one chair, flew down from out of nowhere and lined itself up against the edge so softly that it couldn’t be heard over the distant music and hundreds of conversations taking place.

She took a step, trying not to look down at the vast space below her – she couldn’t even see the floor. Was there a floor? One mis-step, one instance of her already flimsy heels slipping and she’d be falling to her death.

_No, Tina, don’t be ridiculous_ , her mind reassured her. They must’ve had charms in place to prevent that. Yes, they must have; such a reputable place of scum and villainy and _who was she kidding_.

If she thought stepping onto the platform was hard, pulling up the chair and sitting was ten times worse. The metallic chair scratched against the brick, getting stuck on the ridges and when she’d pull to unstick it, it nearly flew out of her hand and into the abyss.

“Our drinks are on the first two pages – I highly recommend the fruity Gigglewater, we make it in-house,” Tessa explained to her, putting a book-like menu in front of her. “And our specials are in the back. Do you know how to direct your table?”

A sudden rustle came out of her necklace; with an indistinct conversation and Tina immediately pressed the menu to her chest, wanting to curse Graves for the noise. Where the hell was he anyway? She had just gotten to the restaurant when he mumbled something about going down to the archives and muted his device.

“I’m afraid I don’t, will you show me?” Tina smiled, looking up at the friendly girl who couldn’t have been older than Queenie.

“Oh of course sweetie, you see that box in the center? If you open it, there’s a parchment inside with a map of the restaurant. Just tap your wand to the room you wish to go to, and it will take you there.”

The rustling from her necklace grew louder, a distinct ‘yes please’ and an even more distinct voice answering it and she pressed the menu just a little harder to herself.

“Oh, I see, I got it. Thanks honey!”

“You’re so welcome, enjoy your dinner, and if you need anything, a house-elf will be right with you.”

Tessa waved her hand and the platform slowly separated from the edge, immediately going upwards towards the ceiling and sending Tina into a mild panic as the 'ground' went farther, and farther away.

“Graves,” she whispered, holding her menu up so adjacent tables couldn’t see her talking into her necklace. “Where the _hell_ have you been?”

More indistinct conversation. “Busy.”

“As usual,” she sighed, opening the menu to the drinks. If he was drinking, there was no excuse for her not to at that point. “Things busy at the archives?”

A pause. More rustling sounds and then a sudden ‘your Firewhisky, sir, do enjoy’.

She almost dropped her menu as fast as her heart sunk.

He didn’t. He couldn’t have.

She was going to _kill_ him.

“Graves,” she said, now above a whisper. “Please don’t tell me you’re here.”

Another pause.

Unbelievable. The man was just completely unable to let her go on the mission alone – Merlin, not even completely alone! She had given him the mirror to keep up with everything, and somehow, he still had to come and participate. Did he not think she was experienced enough? Did he just want to join in on the action? This was irresponsible, boyish behavior she’d expect from a young Auror, not from him.

She didn’t know his reasons exactly, but she knew how much it pissed her off.

“Graves!”

“It’s a long story.” He growled, quickly.

“Well we have plenty of time,” she growled back. “How could you?”

“This isn’t about you, Tina.”

“It is completely about-”

A pop. A friendly house-elf landed on top of her table, holding a piece of parchment that unrolled and fell down the table and off the platform. “I am Tory, to serve misses tonight. Is missis ready for drink order?”

“A glass of the most alcoholic thing you have, please.” She requested, loudly, making sure Graves heard her.

With another pop, the house-elf disappeared, leaving no trace he’d even been there.

“Shouldn’t drink on a mission.” He remarked and she swore he was serious when he said it. The nerve.

“Rich, coming from you,” she huffed. “On your fourth?”

“Fifth.” He corrected quickly and she shook her head. Of course.

The bastard must have been at the bar; the voice of the bartender far too rough for that of a house elf. She turned, very carefully as to not turn the chair, and looked back to the bar. It was right by the edge where she had boarded and stretched from wall to wall, with a total of eight bartenders attending to the thirsty patrons.

And one of them was Graves.

_But which one_ , she wondered, watching the men in the bar to see who would talk and who wouldn’t.

Silence again. She could already count out quite a few men and women who were eagerly having a conversation. Most of them, actually. She must have been halfway through when she spotted a man with his back to the bar, an edition of the New York Ghost covering his face.

“There’s a huge stain on your left knee.” She noted, watching the man and immediately his hand flew over his knee.

_Got you_ , she smiled, though still pissed as all hell.

“Should’ve seen that coming.” He sighed, briefly looking over the paper and over his large circular glasses at her and goodness he was hideous. Most of his hair was missing, now in a messy combover, except for that in his chin and over his lips and it was hard to tell but it looked like he had a bit of a belly too.

“I’m sure you would have, if not for the fifth drink,” she said, annoyed at the real danger posed by the fact that he, the Director of Magical Security, could actually ruin this mission. “Who the heck are _you_?”

“I call him Bobby. Cocky, middle aged bastard who thinks he’s God’s gift to women even though he’s balding and let himself go. Inherited all success from his father.”

“So, you’re not in disguise.” She smirked at the loud thought that wasn’t meant to escape her lips – and she hadn’t even had a drink yet.

Silence. That was far too mean, even for what he had done. If he was amused, he sure was not showing it. “I am not balding.”

She burst into laughter and heard him do the same. It wasn’t often she heard him laugh, and even in such a tense situation, it lightened her fear just a little and almost had her forget how angry she was at him for even being there in the first place.

There was a pop and the house-elf was back with her drink; vodka by the looks of it. She declined ordering any food – not like she had the appetite for it – and took a sip of the powerful drink. It burned worse than the Firewhisky and suddenly that small glass seemed humongous. Maybe she should have asked for bread, at least.

“Travers, coming from behind you, look away,” he suddenly said and Tina froze, holding the menu closer while pretending to read something low. Sure, Tina was disguised, but it wasn’t a completely different transfiguration – someone she knew could probably tell. “On a table, with someone else. Who is that?”

Her table passed by Tina’s and she locked eyes with the man across from her – Dawlish, one of the Aurors. She almost dropped the menu as she forced her eyes back down. Dawlish too? He’d been there for so long, had always been so kind. It didn’t make any sense.

“Dawlish.” She whispered, still looking down.

She could hear him exhale, his sentiment the same as hers. At that rate, they would soon have more turncoat Aurors in the department than legitimate ones and that thought was terrifying. They needed to nip this in bud now – that night, before any more were converted.

“Good catch, by the way.” She muttered, watching their table float down and away. If only she could hear their conversation.

“And you didn’t think I’d be useful.” He responded, almost sounding hurt.

“I never questioned your usefulness, Graves, just your motivations.”

No response.

Tina savored her vodka again, swallowing it down quickly as to avoid the taste that still burnt worse than his Firewhisky. As she watched Travers’ table float away, she could feel the anxiety return; knowing that soon enough she’d have to tail them and listen to as much as she could. So far the mission had been easy, it was just blending in and watching from afar without much danger. At least, compared to how much danger she’d have to put herself in very soon to get anything out of what they were doing.

Their table suddenly changed course, stopping abruptly and moving up, near the ceiling, to a hole that a few other tables were going to. But where was…

The map.

She put the menu down for the first time and reached for the box at the center. It was made entirely of a dark wood, varnished, by the feel of it and Tina could have sworn she’d seen that box before, somewhere. She lifted the lid, slowly pulling out the folded map that stretched across her entire table, falling over the edges and giving her an idea as to just how gigantic this place was.

“They just went into the, hold on,” he said, pausing. “ninth from the right, top row, east wall.”

_Top row, ninth from the right, east_ _wall_ , Tina repeated, pulling the top of the map towards her. It was the Baroque Art Gallery? Strange place for a meeting, even stranger place to just casually look around, but she pushed her wand towards the circle on the map.

Her table immediately stopped, going up just as theirs had and she quickly refolded the map – not in its original configuration by any stretch of the imagination – and picked up the menu again.

“Never thought Travers was the artsy type.” She noted as her table started to enter the brightly lit hall, taking note that there were three small tables between her and Travers.

“Never thought of her as a Grindelwald supporter either,” he growled. “And to think I brought her with me to Jauncey’s apartment, when we were looking for you.”

A pause. She knew from the notes that he took six Aurors to the apartment to find her and DeSoto, but didn’t remember that Travers was amongst them.

“Who else was on that team?” She asked in a whisper as the path curved, the action-filled paintings continuing on the other side.

“Her, Lemos, and Claus took DeSoto to the infirmary.”

“You think Lemos and Claus are suspect?”

“I think anyone who isn’t us is suspect,” he said, disappointed. “How’s the art gallery?”

“Beautiful,” she said quickly, looking up at the framed art that stretched ahead, picturing a group of men out in the night, looking ahead, each person looking vivid enough to just jump out and join her for dinner. “I’ll show you.”

She lowered the menu, keeping a close eye on Travers and Dawlish. There were too many people between them; too many muffled conversations to pick up what they were saying or doing.

“It’s a Rembrandt, judging by how dark it is,” he noted, intrigued. “Very nice. Very much _stolen_ , I might add.”

“I did not know you had an eye for seventeenth century art.” She found herself smiling at that, and put the menu back up.

“Graves family teaching, I’m afraid,” he sighed. “Quite boring. I do not recommend it.”

The exhibit gradually curved around and emptied back into the main dining room, where everyone’s tables went in a different direction.

They continued to do this throughout their meal, visiting another gallery with ancient Chinese art, and then another with all kinds of sculptures, old and new. Tina always made sure to stay far away from the pair and eventually did order herself a salad to blend in better. She couldn’t just hold up the menu the entire time, it was already suspicious enough.

As much as the mission was about spying on Grindelwald and his people, she found her focus drifting more to the man in the bar than the people she followed. Always with a witty comment on someone’s gaudy coat or the quality of some of the ‘art’ and ‘ _how did someone ever think that was good enough to put in a gallery, Tina?_ ’

It had her smiling and laughing more than the mission called for, and whenever she’d find herself back in the main dining room she would always look down to him and his truly disturbing disguise. Even as a complete creep, she still wished he was sitting in front of her. But, given the circumstances, this was probably the closest thing to a date they would have, at least in a while, until the case was won or Graves found a loophole to MACUSA laws. If, he found a loophole.

Tina watched as Travers’ table floated down a layer before entering a darkened alley that did not have a name on the map. It pulled up to the edge, allowing her and Dawlish to step out before the table vanished into thin air. This was it. As nice as it was to have Graves sitting at that bar, knowing he was there out of concern for her, she’d have to do this completely alone. No reassuring voice, no nods, nothing.

A quick tap of the wand did absolutely nothing to the current path her table was taking. Strange. She tapped that specific section on the map again, but nothing happened.

“What’s wrong?”

Tina looked down to that area in mild panic; she needed to get in there and _shit_ , what if she was too late to hear anything? No, there had to be a way. It was obviously a private room, which meant it had to have a password or something. Maybe…

“Tina?” His voice a little more worried than he probably would have liked.

“Working on it.” She said as she drew the Hallows symbol over that part of the map, but it did nothing.

Damn. Not good.

Unless, there was something else inside the box. She shoved the map aside, pulling the box to her and shaking the emptiness inside. A quick revealing spell gave way to absolutely nothing and how the heck did any of these people find their way without an instruction manual? Sure, each secret group probably had a different ‘password’ to letting their people in, but she needed a clue, and one that didn’t turn out to be a portkey this time.

A clue. A portkey. Her heart nearly stopped as she looked back down at the box in her hand.

This was the same type of box in Jauncey’s apartment, that she grabbed. Except, that box had the Hallows symbol sketched on it.

She put her wand to the top of the box, burning the symbol as she had seen it, leaving a deep indent on the surface that was unmistakable even from afar.

The table stopped, abruptly.

“Tina? Talk to me, what happened?”

“I got it,” she whispered, in mild shock as her table moved to that entrance. “This time, it’s the big one.”

It worked. Dear Merlin it worked.

“Remember, know your exits, work out where you can hide if the charm fails. Don’t panic.”

Her platform touched the edge, but a brick wall came up and blocked the entrance before she could step out and she froze again. The box on her hand warmed and she looked down to see a slot inside that had not been there, where she imagined her wand must be deposited. She hesitated, but dropped it in, feeling naked without it immediately.

The wall crumbled, melting into the rest of the bricks.

She looked down at the barely lit alley in front of her. There were a few torches guiding the way, punctuated by long stretches of darkness that made it impossible to tell if there were any people or traps or anything designed to impede her. And there was silence.

“I have to mute you, Graves.” It was hard to say, and much harder to do.

A pause. He breathed. “I know,” he finally said. “Tina, I-I’m here.”

A part of her was still mad as all hell for him showing up, for him being unable to let her go on this mission on her own. This was her mission to carry out, alone. She sighed. But it felt nice to have him there. Not necessary; she could have done everything without him and she knew that, but it was nice to look up and see him, to know she had backup no matter what.

“I know.” She whispered, touching the cold glass on her neck to silence it.

_I’ll come back._

\--

_I’m here?!_ Was that the best thing he could say? No, what he wanted – needed - to say was how much he enjoyed her snide and piercing comments at his expense, how he couldn’t wait to have those sharp lips back on him. How she had such a ridiculous grip on his heart that made him fear how hard he was falling for the witch in the dress he had ‘accidentally’ made too small.

And if something happened, she would never hear any of it.

He sighed, flipping the page of his newspaper for show as he watched her on his glasses, walking down that long, barely lit hallway. A hall that could hide anything, and anyone, and fuck he was worrying again.

She would be alright. She would come back. Grindelwald would have no knowledge she was even there.

He lit up a cigarette, enjoying it as if he hadn’t had a puff in weeks. A sixth drink would be murder at this point; he needed to keep some semblance of focus and control, if not for her then for his own dignity at least.

A man’s voice, suddenly, and Tina stopped. The hall veered right and as Tina was about to step into it a man in a sweeping red coat came through, his eyes right on her.

Percival nearly swallowed his cigarette. Tina pushed herself against the brick wall just in time for the man to move right past her, so close that he could see his brown curls and pierced ear clear as day.

Disillusionment Charm. Just as they practiced.

“Thought I heard someone,” the man remarked as he went to the edge, where her table had been moments earlier. “You really didn’t hear a thing, Shamus?”

“Nothin’ lad.” The man – Shamus, probably – yelled from inside and Tina hurried along before the red-coated man could walk back. It was a tight hall and the chance of him running into her was far too great, and he was glad she recognized it too.

The tight brick hall opened into a high ceiling cigar room, all its walls polished with the same chocolate-colored wood from the map box. The major light source came from a single, elegant chandelier at the center, large and with so many glistening crystals that it must have cost quite a few Dragots. The walls were lined with shelves filled to the brim with alcohol; it even had its own bar, with a selection that made The Silent Owl’s bar seem pitiful. The large man who must have been Shamus sat alone at a large half-moon couch in the center, clearly meant to entertain a bigger group, too busy entertaining his novel and glass of red wine to care about what red-coat was doing.

He immediately noted the doorway at the opposite end of the hall, and hoped Tina saw it too.

“Strange,” red-coat sounded from behind and his view shifted as Tina must have slipped behind the unused couch. “Should we tell the boss?”

“Only if you want to lose your head,” Shamus remarked, not looking up from his book. “He’s not patient with mistakes, y’know that. Poor Travers is probably gettin’ an earful right now.”

Percival almost felt bad for the girl. She had no idea who she was messing with.

Red-coat fell back down on the couch, legs up on the coffee table, with a frustrated sigh. “You think the girl’s right?”

“Nah,” he answered quickly, putting his wine down. “MACUSA don’t know we’re here. If I were her, I wouldn’t even have mentioned it.”

“Yeah,” he said, closing his eyes. “Get ready for clean-up duty.”

“Don’t joke.” the Irishman snorted, turning a page of his novel.

Silence.

Tina moved from her hiding spot, looking back at the two men, then at the bartender, who seemed to have been polishing the same glass since she entered. He had to admit, the monster sure had quite a taste for meeting rooms. This was no backroom poker game, with cheap liquor and even cheaper morals where he’d been in so many times undercover. It was, unfortunately, the type of room he’d found himself in the dullest of social gatherings and at times even enjoyed, with enough alcohol.

Tina moved to the doorway he had seen, going through a different brick hall, with more torches illuminating the way, casting eerie shadows that had him gripping his paper a little too hard. She was doing great, so far, and he, well, he was still a wreck, even in spite of the firewhisky and the cigarette that still sat on his lips.

“…which is precisely why we have to go back to France,” A man said with conviction, the hint of a German accent in his voice. “This plan, if we can call it that, at MACUSA is mad, Gellert.”

_Gellert._ He cringed at hearing that name spoken so casually, like they were friends. Grindelwald did not have friends, he had pawns.

The hall turned again, giving way to a balcony. The walls surrounding the place rose even higher than in the cigar room, each one having an enormous work of art – depicting war and battles and _death_ \- that stretched from the floor all the way up to the edges of the ceiling. Not magical portraits, no, this was no-maj art. Expensive and probably stolen if he had to guess. And down below, a dining room table fit to seat nearly twenty people.

“Have faith, Gorsky. When I have I ever led you all astray?”

Percival’s bones chilled at the voice that he hated hearing and always hoped he’d never have to hear again. At the head of the table, with an air of annoyance, was Grindelwald himself. Given how Grindelwald normally kept an even tone, this man must have already been pissing off for some time before Tina got there.

“You were captured two weeks ago!” Gorsky pounded on the table.

Not the wisest move.

“And I always planned for that possibility,” he asserted. “It’s why this was always the backup plan from the moment we captured Graves.”

_We?!_ He only remembered Grindelwald being there, surprising him outside his house.

“Your pet Graves?” He scoffed. “Even if this works, he’s still a shadow of his former self. Nothing more than damaged goods after what you did to him.”

_Damaged goods._ The words pierced his chest like a spear.

No one said a word. Grindelwald thought a moment, then stood, eyes staring into the beyond as he slowly paced around the table. Percival couldn’t help but swallow, the edges of the newspaper shaking with his hand. He knew this little walk too well. Knew the ghost in that expression.

“Entertain me, Gorsky,” he said, slowly. “If you throw a ball, and it curves, can you right it?”

“No.”

Grindelwald continued his pacing, stopping right behind Gorsky’s chair. The man was sitting up straight, trying desperately not to look up at the monster but Percival knew how impossible that was, not when the danger was looming so close. Sometimes it was impossible not to stare at the sun.

Percival’s cigarette began to slip from his mouth and he bit down on it, the force nearly cutting it in half.

“And an old tree? If it grows crooked, can you straighten the trunk?” He laid his hands on the man’s shoulders and Gorsky flinched, his face slowly transitioning from composure to discomfort.

“Well, n-no.” He stuttered as Grindelwald kneaded his shoulders, the man’s suit jacket crumpling under those cold hands.

“Correct. But, in my life, I’ve found that people, you see, aren’t balls or trees,” he said, one arm draping down from Gorsky’s shoulder to his arm before lifting up the appendage. “People are more like bones.”

Percival’s stomach churned at the words. He moved to put out the cigarette from his lips and found his arm so much heavier than he anticipated, and it nearly fell to his side, a shaking mess like Gorsky would soon be.

“B-bones, sir?” He said as he glanced at the people around him, but their faces were also twisted in the same dread and fear as Percival imagined his must have been. No one said a word, no one ran to his side. He may have been surrounded by people he knew and even trusted, but he was a snake amongst snakes. And they did not protect each other.

“Oh, yes. If your arm was crooked, how would I fix it?”

Gorsky, now finally realizing what was happening, could barely keep it together, his face scrunched up as Grindelwald held onto the man’s arm as if it were a toy.

_Please don’t_ , Percival begged in his head, unsure if his plea was meant to protect Gorsky or himself. _Please._

“You break it.” The man barely gasped out as Grindelwald caressed his arm.

“And?” He teased, gripping the man’s wrist and Percival could barely sit still on the stool as breathing started to become a challenge.

He swallowed hard, his eyes glimmering. “Reset it.”

Grindelwald suddenly twisted Gorsky’s arm, forcing his elbow back and he cried out. Percival shut his eyes, trying to focus on the rushed air coming through his nose and not on the cries of the man in his glasses.

“Percival Graves was a crooked bone,” he yelled over Gorsky’s piercing screams. “And now, he is a broken one.”

Percival could not bear to open his eyes and pushed the glasses down and away from him. His chest tightened with each of Gorsky’s pained cries and he soon found himself swallowing down a sob himself. Each deep breath he tried for failed to grasp him any air; a heavy ball settling on the base of his throat and making it painful to even try to breathe.

“Sir, are you alright?” The bartender called out from behind and Percival became aware of how much of a scene he was causing, with his shaking newspaper and sweat running down his face and soaking his suit like some drugged idiot.

“Restrooms,” he breathed, stuffing the glasses into his jacket pocket. “Where are they?”

“Down the left,” he said but Percival could not bare to look at him. “Do you need help? We can call ya a ride.”

“Fine.” He gasped, slipping out of the stool with barely any control over his legs, almost unable to hear anything else over the hard thumps of his heart.

He didn’t know how, but he fell into the bathroom in what looked like a drunken stumble to anyone else, settling in one of the many stalls as far from the door as he could.

_Ground yourself, Percival_ , a little voice whispered as he clutched his hair with both hands. He tucked his head between his knees as the rest of his mind replayed that snapping sound and the man’s cries over and over again until it became a part of him, until it was all there was.

“My name is,” he gasped in a hushed whisper, trying to regain whatever composure he could. “My name is Percival Graves. I am Director of Magical Security at MACUSA.”

He repeated it, focusing on the words, on his identity, trying to pull himself away from what he’d seen but the air was still far too short, heart still pounding hard enough to hurt. Deep down, he knew what he needed. He needed Tina. He needed her perfume. He-

Her perfume.

He pulled a hand away from his hair, accidentally pulling out far too many strands with it as he dug into his pocket, pulling out the gloves he still carried, even though they didn’t really fit, even though he didn’t use gloves. Her gloves.

A deep breath. There wasn’t much of her perfume left, but he dug his nose into the soft fabric, extracting anything still left of the scent. A sign that he was alright. That he wasn’t in that case. That it wasn’t him getting anything broken.

Sound began to return to the world. Toilets flushing. Doors opening and closing. Men joking around with each other, talking crudely about their dates.

More deep breaths. Tina. She was still there. She still needed him.

It wasn’t the best grip on reality he’d had, but it had to be enough. With his body still shaking in the aftermath of the horror he witnessed, he stood and pushed open the door of his stall, slowly, quietly, to not attract much attention. There was a man washing his hands a few feet away, but he didn’t even bother looking over at Percival.

He stepped up to the sink in front of him and splashed the coldest damn water he could force out of there to his face, reveling in the chill that shocked him awake and reminded him he was alive.

One more deep breath. It was alright. It would all be alright. He went to close the faucet and froze. His scars, on both hands, were there, red, ugly and visible as day for all to see. Which meant-

_Oh shit._

He looked up at the mirror to find his own, tired face looking back at him.

And he wasn’t alone.

He immediately turned to look at the man next to him and found him staring back, mouth agape like an idiot, water filling up the quickly flooding sink and drenching the man’s shoes.

There was no time to think. Percival pulled his wand out and swung it towards the man who was in the process of doing the same. A shot of red flew from Percival’s wand, hitting the brick wall and causing an explosion that threw the man into the door of a nearby stall and through it, but not before a burst of magic hit Percival on the legs. Something wrapped around his ankles and he flew down face-first, the world turning white as his head smashed into a sink on his way down.

Everything was so bright. He closed his eyes, feeling a cold liquid running against his lips and down his neck. He tried to lift his head but pain exploded from his forehead, down his body and he grunted, his body writhing and _shit_ , his ankles were bound. Incarcerous. He’d been caught by a fucking incarcerous, like an untrained Junior. Something, nearby, shuffled and he managed to open an eye just enough to see several legs rushing to him.

Legs – _people_. Bad people. People who would see him murdered, if given the chance. People who, if they knew where Tina was, would take her too.

Tina.

No. Not her. He was there to protect her, not bring her harm.

“Hey fella, are you alright?” A man with navy trousers stopped in front of him, about to kneel. “No fightin’ in the bath-Graves!”

With strength he didn’t know he had, he swung his wand and the same sink that had him on the floor split from the wall and he threw it at the man, pushing him against whoever else was behind him. He needed cover; he needed to get himself up, needed to _fucking move Percival!_

One of them pulled out his wand and Percival immediately rolled to the wall beneath a different sink, clothes completely soaking in the water that lined the floor. A jet of air and magic flew past him, way too close for comfort, hitting the floor where he had sat and cracking the tile floor with a bang that shook the walls. He needed to end this, _now_. Wand still in hand, he pulled down the cemented ceiling on them with a grunt, the dust and debris sweeping over their bodies like a cloud of smoke.

They yelled, they screamed, and as the last of the blocks fell on them, they stopped.

Silence.

He pushed the ropes off his feet with a growl. The boneheads that tried attacking him lay motionless underneath the cement he brought down, and judging by the trail of red escaping and merging with the rest of the flooded floor, they may never walk again. _Good._

The world spun as he slowly stood, feet slipping on the wet tiles and twisting the bathroom into a blur. The door. He needed to get out, needed a new costume, and desperately-

Something-someone slammed into him against a sink, sending his wand flying and the back of his head into a mirror and blurring the world once again. It was the first man, the one he threw into a stall, blood dripping from his hairline down his enraged face so quickly it obscured any other features. He hit Percival right in the eye, sending his head back against the mirror and something cracked – he hoped not his head – while his mind floated in and out of consciousness. At that point, punch after punch, the pain didn’t even register anymore.

He would die. Another hit like that and he could. And they’d find the mirror, they’d find Tina.

_Wake up Percival, wake the fuck up._

He punched back, his knuckles cracking on making contact with the thick skull in front of him. And he hit him again, and again, but the man pushed back and slammed Percival’s head back into the mirror, shards of glass falling everywhere. Without a second thought, he grabbed one of those shards in the sink behind him and rammed the entire thing into the side of his throat.

The man withdrew from Percival immediately, grasping at the neck-wound he would not survive as he slipped over his fallen comrades and fell to join them, his blood mixing further with the water and creating a scene out of a horror movie as the entire floor thickened and reddened. Percival could hear him gasping for air, could see him struggling to live but could not find any pity to show him, not with his bruising face still throbbing from the onslaught.

There was no time to take a breath. He needed to get out, and he needed his wand. What he wouldn’t give to just be able to _Accio_ it over to him like old times. Falling to his knees, he rummaged through the debris, finally noticing the gash running through his palm from the glass shard he used to fucking kill a man. It didn’t hurt – yet – but he needed to heal that before the bleeding got worse. He needed his wand.

He needed to be able to do fucking wandless magic.

Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw it by the door, swaying with the water that was now high enough to cause his wand to actually float.

The wound would be first, but as he touched the wand to the bloodied skin, it barely stitched back together. _Shit_. The fight must’ve really taken it out of him for his magic to be that weak. If he could barely heal a cut, a full body transfiguration would be out of the question, at least, until he could sit down a minute. Maybe grab another glass of Firewhisky. He almost laughed – _as if_.

The bathroom door slammed open, and three laughing men stopped in their tracks, eyes floating between Percival and the carnage behind him. By the time he pointed his wand towards the men the door shut, but not enough to keep him from hearing their cries.

“Percival Graves is here! MACUSA raid!”

Fuck.

\--

“We are nearly there,” Grindelwald said calmly, as if he hadn’t just snapped someone’s elbow the wrong way and Tina had to fight not to make a noise. “Our problems in America will be solved on Friday. And then we move out.”

“Yes sir.” The rest of his followers said in unison, except for Gorsky who had fallen off his chair and was silently weeping on the floor like the pathetic mess he was. What else did he think would happen if he joined someone like Grindelwald?

“Leave Percy to me,” he asserted. “Do not touch one hair in his pretty little head. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir.” They all responded again.

Not one person looked back to their crying teammate.

“Good. Now, progress reports. Claudius?”

He sat back down and a bald, fit, man with a silver-grey suit at the other end of the table stood, solemn and all business before he began to speak. Outside of the completely psychopathic behavior, it was amazing how Grindelwald conducted his team so similarly to how Graves assigned work to his Aurors. He listened intently to each word one of his followers would utter, occasionally remarking at Claudius’ complete inability to dodge an Expelliarmus and _was he a fucking first year_ , he had emphasized, before sending the man back to his assignment of smuggling magical creatures at the docks.

Tina made mental notes at all the speakers and what they’d done. All eloquent, well-educated people by the looks of it and she could not understand in what universe they believed in Grindelwald’s tales. They were all, as far as she could tell, in charge of doing little things to ultimately expose the wizarding community. Grindelwald was cunning with this plans. All the little tasks, on their own, would hardly be worth of mention in MACUSA and would easily end up at the bottom of a busy Auror’s investigations. An exposed Mandrake? A mere relocation and obliviation. Easy. Levitating a no-maj by ‘accident’? A slap on the wrist. But add them all up, increasing over time, and it would only be a matter of time before the no-maj put everything together. It was no wonder the pile of papers on Graves' desk just kept growing and growing with each passing day.

“And you, Priscilla, what have you got for us tonight, doll?”

An older woman, with her thick coat wrapped around her and obscuring the glow of the diamonds around her neck and lining her dress, stood and smiled.

“Well, the attack on-”

Heavy footsteps, right behind her. Tina barely had time to look as she pushed back against the wall, the red-coated man flying past her and nearly smashing right into her shoulder. She could practically taste his fruity cologne and she retreated further into the corner of the wall, praying her disillusionment charm was still completely effective.

“MACUSA!” He shouted from the balcony. “MACUSA upstairs. Graves is here.”

Tina’s heart stopped. They found him, somehow, through the disguise. The people in this restaurant would _kill_ for the opportunity to capture the Director, and oh the things they would do to him.

No, she would find him, she would get him out. No one knew she was there.

“MACUSA is here, or just Percy?” Grindelwald asked over the muffled whispers of the rest of the table.

“I don’t know, sir. Only Graves specifically has been seen but he must-”

“Not necessarily,” he noted, slowly, as if thinking about it. “Get out, and get me Percy. He will probably be disguised and eager to leave, so check everyone at the exits.”

“Yes sir.” They all said, the sound of chairs rattling against the floor filling the room.

“Oh, and he will probably be with Ms. Goldstein. I want her too, unharmed,” he emphasized. "Dawlish, go home. I don't want him to see you."

The red-coated man backed away, now standing right next to Tina before leaving as the balcony roared alive, creaking and groaning as it twisted to form a stairway to the room below. All the people she’d seen sitting calmly now ran up the stairs and through the hall, heading back through the cigar room. Except Gorsky, last of the pack, and without a shoulder to help.

“Travers,” Grindelwald called out and she stopped, fear clouding her eyes. “What have we learned, tonight?”

He came up from behind, walking by her side and snaking his hand around her waist in an affectionate way she did not think he was capable of.

“Not to trust what Mr. Graves says?” She asked as they walked right by Tina, Grindelwald’s hand rubbing her sides.

“Well, why would he lie to his Aurors? To the team he's supposed to trust?” He prodded as they walked and Tina followed, careful not to get too close.

“He doesn’t trust us,” she said, looking up to him as if for approval. “He knows not all the Aurors are on his side.”

“Right,” he muttered. They walked through the empty cigar room and down the first hall as the remaining men and women boarded their tables back to the main lobby. Too many of them were gone and Graves was in trouble but there was nothing she could do, not with Grindelwald right in front of her and her wand still secured in her table. “Keep an eye on him, and Goldstein. He will always go to her. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

He slipped his hand up, brushing her hair back behind her ear. His hand lingered on her cheeks a bit and she looked up at him expectantly, her eyes switching between his eyes and his lips and Tina nearly gagged. She was actually attracted to him, and he was completely using her, as he did all the others. And she believed it. Every second of it.

“Now go home, dear. You know where I’ll be.” He whispered, pinching her cheek before turning and walking back down the hall. Alone. Unarmed.

But before Tina could even consider throwing a hex at him, his figure clouded and disappeared with a loud pop. She was too slow; she hesitated a second too long and he was gone, again.

He had apparated, in a place that blocked it. It could only mean that he was either powerful enough to overcome it, or he had some kind of deal with Gnarlak. Both possibilities were terrible.

She turned back to Travers and now she was gone as well. She was alone. Which meant…

“Graves?” She tapped her mirror, turning the sound back on. “Graves, can you hear me?”

“Tina!” He gasped, his breathing ragged. “Merlin, you’re alright.”

Thank Merlin – they hadn’t gotten to him yet. She stepped onto the loading area and watched her table materialize out of nowhere and she sat down, immediately pulling her wand out of the box. Having it back in her hands, knowing the fight that would probably break out, was a relief.

“I’m fine, but you have eighteen of his followers after you right now,” she said quickly. “They know you’re disguised, they know you’re going to try for one of the vanishing cabinets. They think I’m with you.”

“Shit,” he sighed. “Other exits?”

She shrugged as her table floated away and she quickly noted the chaos as hundreds of people ran to the reception, with tables nearly clashing into each other as they made their way down. The only thing on everyone’s lips were MACUSA related and she couldn’t help but smile at the thought that so many high-rankings criminals still feared them.

There were so many alleys and the like but all of them were meeting rooms or exhibits or a mountain of other useless areas that the only exits she could confirm were the four vanishing cabinets in the reception area.

“I have a hunch,” she suggested, thinking back to the first empty restaurant they had seen. “Kitchens usually have an exit.”

“Kitchens,” he repeated, his voice weary. Something had happened to get him discovered, and whatever it was took it out of him. She needed to get him out. “Where is it?”

Tina opened her map, her wand dragging from spot to spot and something rumbled below her. She looked down at the madness the restaurant had become, with spells flying as two men fought over a cabinet and reminding her she needed to be quicker. It was amazing the amount of chaos that could be caused by someone spotting just Graves himself.

“Where are you? What are you wearing?” She asked quickly, looking down at the crowd.

“By the bar. White suit, blonde hair.”

He sure was. Percival Graves, with long dirty-blonde hair tied into a ponytail stood amongst a group of older gentlemen who did not seem as rushed to leave. She could see the mirror danging in his chest as a necklace, like hers, as he pretended to look into the chaos with disinterest.

“There’s a man coming your way, white hair, short. He’s one of Grindelwald’s people.”

Graves looked over and turned away from the man, who passed by unaware of who he was near. There would soon be more coming as the reception emptied and there were less people to check and time was of the essence. She turned back to the map, but sure enough, if the kitchen was there, it was not listed. The only person – well, being – she’d seen going in and out of it was the house elf.

“Tory!”

A loud pop and the house elf was back, shaking and terrified. “Missis! There’s evacuation in restaurant, you have to go.”

“Oh I know darling, but it’s a mess at the exit and I need to leave,” she begged, holding onto the now startled elf. “Please, can you take me to the kitchen, where I’ll be safe?”

“Tory cannot take guests to kitchen.” He said, faltering.

“Please Tory, please,” she pleaded, holding onto his little hands tighter. “You’ll be helping me so much. I’m just a first timer here, y’know?”

"But-"

"It would mean so much to me. I'd say such good things about you, to everyone."

He paused, considering her offer. She didn't know what else to offer the poor guy, it's not like she could have offered him freedom.

Another spell, out of nowhere, hit the brick wall somewhere and the whole place shook.

“Well,” the house-elf blushed, looking uneasy. “Fine, for missis, to be safe.”

He grabbed her other hand and in a second they were gone, apparating in one of the many brick alleys she’d seen.

“Missis can hide in there, for a little.” He said, pointing to a set of metal doors behind her and she nodded quickly to him before he was gone with another pop.

She walked over to the ledge, looking down to abyss and up to the platform she had originally boarded, now full of people still running and screaming in all directions as Grindelwald’s followers surely began causing a ruckus in an effort to find Graves.

She grabbed her glass necklace again.

“Kitchens are on the bottom row, towards the middle – look down.”

She could just barely see him in the distance, standing at the edge, eyes frantically searching the vast room for her.

There was a chasm between them, and somehow, someway, she needed to get him across.

“I see you.”

“Great, I recomm-”

Something flew right at him and even from where she was she could see the blonde ponytail give way to his own shorter, darker hair.

“Shit,” he whispered before firing a spell back at the woman that hit him and she collapsed, but not before another three men came out of nowhere and continued the assault, leaving him running and on the defensive. “I’m going to jump.”

He was – _what?_ They didn’t even know if the platforms could have been manipulated by magic, much less if she could control it and _Mercy Lewis he jumped_.

No time to think. She grabbed a hold of the nearest table to him – not a platform – and swung it under him. His weight was almost too much and the table faltered; with him grabbing onto the legs for control as a flurry of spells flew towards him, but he continued to block them.

“I was expecting a whole platform!” He yelled as she pulled him in her direction. Almost there – just another, oh, fifty or so yards.

“Shut up and hold on, damn it.” She roared at him as she flipped the table sideways to avoid a spell coming from a completely different angle, nearly causing him to slip out.

The spell hit the table with a bang and it shriveled in size, dropping Graves to the abyss below. _No!_ She would not let him fall, not then, not ever. She pulled a different table and caught him again, just as the brick floor in front of her burst open. This was no longer about just guiding him to her and to safety. She took cover, still keeping an eye and a hold on him and the table but felt her arms become heavy, her concentration faltering as the spells kept coming.

“They see me!” She said, dodging another spell that exploded past her. “I can’t protect myself and bring you in, not at the same time.”

“I got you.”

A sea of tables now flew out from all platforms and in the distance Tina could see their attackers doing the same thing, jumping on tables and platforms and making their way to him, firing spells indiscriminately at the two of them as Graves desperately tried to block and deflect what he could - for both of them. There wasn’t even time to fight back – they were enormously outnumbered and it was a miracle none of their spells were getting through.

Another spell flew past her head but hit the wall behind her, the resulting shock sending her flying forward into the opposite wall. Her grip on the table nearly gave out but as she saw him dip down she caught herself – and him – and pulled him back up, the effort taking up all her focus.

“Jump again, Graves,” she gasped, looking over at a platform that still held a couple chairs. The weight of the table was wearing on her arms and she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep him afloat, but the chair, the chair she could do. With the chair, a simple Accio would do it. “And grab the chair.”

“What chair?”

“I’ll get it to you, just, trust me please.” At that angle, it would probably work. It had to.

He deflected another curse and pushed off from the table and into the unknown, just a few yards from where she was. She _Accio_ ’ed the nearby metal chair as hard as she could and Graves barely gripped its legs as it flew towards her, wobbling and threatening to kick him off it.

The chair, coming in at an unfathomable speed, crashed on the platform, distorting from the impact barely giving Tina enough time to get out of the way of the flying projectile. Graves had let go and rolled to her feet, his head mashing into the floor with each roll before he stopped, ragged and face down.

He wasn’t moving.

“Shit, Graves, wake up,” She muttered, trying to pull him away from the ledge as spells continued to fly past them but by Merlin’s light he was so damn heavy. “ _Please_ , Graves.”

“Grab the fucking chair,” he mumbled, in a mocking tone. “Fuck that damn chair.”

Humor?! In a time like that? _Fuck, Graves_. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to smack him or kiss him.

Both, but after they got out, alive.

“Come on, almost there.”

He shuffled to his knees and now it was Tina countering spells that were coming ever closer as Grindelwald’s followers were almost to them. She held out a shoulder for him and he clung to her as they pushed through the metal doors and into the now emptied kitchen. Raw and cooked food sat in the prepping area, along with dozens of pots and pans still bubbling in the ongoing fire but with no one to tend to it.

If Tina’s hunch had been wrong, if there was no exit to speak of, they’d be trapped in a dead-end, both too tired to wear down all of those rabid men and women intent on capturing them.

A sharp bang behind them and Graves immediately turned to cast something at the noise. She could only barely see some of the pots flying back followed by loud, agonized screams and she quickly put two and two together. The kitchen curved and she pushed them into it, Graves still casting defensive spells to keep them alive.

And then, finally, an emergency exit at the back. She had been right. They were nearly there. So close. She gripped him a little tighter, pulling them towards the exit as fast as her feet could carry.

Another loud crash and she turned in time to see all the glassware flying to them, combusting in mid-air, the shards flying in their direction. But Graves was far too fast for them and with a jab of his wand, the glass shards stopped mid-air, reversing course and rushing back to their attackers so quickly they didn’t have time to block the blades that sliced through the air.

Graves was not done with them and suddenly put his foot down, just a few feet from the door. With a growl, all the kitchen equipment bolted to the ground – stoves, ovens, prep tables – slowly detached, the metals screeching and screaming as it twisted and rose, higher and higher. The ten or so followers still after them stopped, watching in awe and hell, even Tina couldn’t help but stop to see it.

“Get back!” One of them yelled and just as they begun to run away. But it was too late.

“Leave. Me. Alone.” He growled, now taking the tiles from the floor and all bricks from the walls. They joined and spun in the center with the rest of the heavy equipment, forming a makeshift tornado that spun faster, grew larger as the seconds ticked by. It was mesmerizing, and Tina could not believe the amount of magic Graves could summon when his rage took over. This was a man who, moments ago, could barely walk, but something about being put on the defensive, on being attacked, just snapped within him and it was terrifying to watch it take hold.

And then, in a flash, he unleashed it in a flash of white that blinded her. Everything in that kitchen rushed forward, taking with it every person dumb enough to still be standing there. Their pained screams could barely be heard over the roar of the machines and equipment hitting walls, other machinery and everything in its path until there was only dust.

It was too much for him. With the danger gone, he collapsed back into her shoulders, holding onto her for dear life as she pushed open the exit door to the chilly outside. It looked like a normal back alley in a big city; nothing special. She didn’t even know where they were – if they were even still in the same state – but she had to try to apparate them back, before more people showed up, and before he completely passed out.

She clutched his jacket, squeezing the soft fabric and thought of his living room. His head fell against hers, limp and heavy, and she held him tighter as her magic took a hold of them.

_Just hold on, Graves, just a little longer._


	14. Love is the Death of Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival and Tina find themselves in new territory, counting on an old friend for help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's been a drought of a GoT quotes so there you go. Also a big thanks for everyone commenting and leaving kudos on the story, I really can't say enough how much I appreciate it. The support keeps me going!
> 
> And if you haven't seen the deleted scenes that leaked then what the heck are you waiting for? It has GoldGraves! Go! Then come back here and read.

“Stop! Tina, stop.”

_Stop?!_ She had no idea whether that was even possible; to cancel your own apparition mid-way but she refocused all her energy onto the firm, wet concrete below her feet, the chill in the air, the nearly two-hundred pounds of man slumped on her shoulder. Recalling a spell was something wizards and witches weren’t meant to do. It was never even taught in school, or in Auror training, so Tina improvised, casting a cancellation on herself as the world spun and flipped on its heel around her.

When the landscape stopped and her stomach reminder her that it did not enjoy the cancelled trip, it was now Graves clutching her bicep to keep her from falling over. “What happened?”

“We’re not in New York,” he gasped, falling to his knees – but no further – and bringing her down with him before he began coughing. “We’re not even in America. Apparating can kill us, from here.”

_Not in New York. Not even in America._

_Shit._

All air was sucked out of her lungs for that moment as she struggled to find her grip on reality. The tight space between buildings, light drizzle hanging in the air, and overall stench of overpopulation would have had her fooled. “How do you know?”

“Cars,” he gasped, pointing to the end of the alleyway. “Wrong way. This is London, I think.”

London! That explained the various vanishing cabinets at the entrance of the restaurant. They probably led back to the different major cities around America; maybe even the rest of the world. To think that such a device could provide a path to intercontinental travel without her or Graves even realizing where they truly were. Was MACUSA aware that this was a possibility?

Still, London. It was hard not to be at least a little thrilled, even in the midst of the danger they faced from the bolted door behind them.

Her eyes flew from the worn brick of the ominous buildings that closed in around them to the street some yards away. The entrance to the alley gave way to light, and people, and life but she would have never noticed something as mundane as the directions the cars were going on. It was careless. She could’ve killed them. She could’ve killed _him_.

“My hand,” he gasped in between coughs, pulling her attention away from the wonders that awaited them and back to the grim reality. “This fucking pain, I swear.”

She began digging through the endless depth of her purse for the no-maj balm that worked once and hopefully would work again. “Well, you put up quite a show with it.”

“Yes, yes I did,” he continued with a hiss and his head fell to her shoulder, but instead of his usual musk she smelled something else; something that stung and did not belong. “They were going to hurt you, Tina. I did what I had to.”

He groaned again, his whole body beginning to shake as a reaction to the growing pain.

She needed to fix him, quickly, so they could get the hell out of that alley and out of that city. After pulling out what seemed like everything but the damn balm, she found the half-empty bottle and emptied it onto the shaking hand without a second thought. It was on fire. The first time she used it on him she was sure to be delicate but that time, damn it all, she threw all caution to the wind and spread the liquid over him as efficiently as possible. It was too dangerous. He needed to heal, fast, before he passed out, leaving her alone in the middle of London with no way back and no connections. And what the _hell_ was that smell?

“You have the best hands,” he rambled into her shoulder, the shorter hair from the sides tickling her ear. “Thank you.”

It would have been hilarious to suddenly see him gushing, if she wasn’t terrified for him. She’d seen Graves hit by some interesting spells, and even hit upside the head once, but it never came down to _that_. That fall must've banged him up worse than she thought.

“I appreciate that,” she whispered, tracing over the bumps of his scars. It was something he hated, but they weren’t ugly to her. If anything, they showed the strength he had when so many others would have succumbed. If only she could get him to see it that way. “Come on, we have to get out of this alley while no one’s figured out we’re here.”

“Bob. We have to get to Bob, I trust him,” he said as he tried to pick himself up, falling with a thud against the brick wall. “Help me up, please.”

Geez, _and_ he was asking for help. She needed to hit him upside the head more often. “Can you walk?”

“Not well,” he gasped, leaning on her for support. “Not my best dismount from a flying chair.”

“I wasn’t the one who jumped into the unknown with no warning or plan,” she couldn’t help but roll her eyes as they stepped into the populated street. If it weren’t for the cars driving in the opposite direction, it would be hard to tell that it wasn’t New York – especially with a place nearby that claimed to be Soho’s Biggest Book Shop; a bold claim from the small door nestled between Smith’s Toupees and someplace called The Grand Stand. She had to remind herself that a lot of the neighborhoods and even streets in New York were 'borrowed' from London. “That was quite the risk, even for you.”

The street curved, the small shops giving way to much older architecture that was certainly there longer than anything in New York. They walked underneath the cover of a large, four or five stories tall building that curved with the length of the street as far as the eye could see, with high arches and even pillars holding up the roof that faded into the night. It must’ve housed either high-end shops or some no-maj government facilities if she had to guess. Or, even, both. A blurred sign at the nearest cross-section just read ‘Regent Street’.

“I knew you’d catch me,” he suddenly said, barely above a whisper. “I trusted you.”

_But not enough to do the whole mission on your own_ , her mind quickly reminded her.

“We need to find a phone booth.”

A phone booth. She had to wonder if this was related to the telephone invention Queenie had mentioned from her exploration on no-maj life.

His weight was quickly becoming a challenge on her as they walked past the emptying street, avoiding the light as much as they could – at Graves’ request to not attract the wrong kind of attention. She still hadn’t really gotten a good look at him since they left; well, stumbled out of the restaurant. The slow walk had gradually turned to a limp, the rancid smell hadn’t improved, and his forehead seemed a little swollen as far as she could tell. They needed to get to Bob.

“There.” He suddenly said as they walked past an older couple that mumbled something about Tina’s clothes, and it was only then she noted she was still in her little black dress. The chill in the air pricked at her exposed skin, but with her heart still going a mile a minute, she didn’t acknowledge the discomfort that normally came with it. Sure, it was cold – she felt it stiffening her cheek, constricting her legs, but she made the conscious choice not to mind. It worked, temporarily at least.

‘There’ as pointed by Graves, rose out of the ground, bright red, indeed like a sore thumb and unlike anything else in the street that championed muted colors and aged design. This _thing_ – this kiosk, with the gold, intricately designed crown popping out right above the word TELEPHONE, seemed too interesting for something no-maj designed, but too obvious to be placed by a wizard. So, which was it?

Graves stumbled in, dragging her into the darkened cube with barely enough space to accommodate two adults and with Tina pressed against him the smell of death and decay that followed him like a cloud only got worse. He picked up the object – the telephone, she thought – and spun the numbers in the front with a heavy click. 6-2-4-4-2.

“Yes, we’re here to see Bob Ogden, Magical Law Enforcement.” He suddenly said, each word a struggle to breathe out as he leaned on the glass for support.

Then silence.

Tina looked out the glass surrounding them, not feeling completely safe standing inside the most noticeable area of the emptying street. The few people walking dressed no differently than what she’d seen in New York and all just seemed to mind their own business. No one cared about where they were, or what they were even doing. Oblivious.

Something slammed beside her and she jumped. “Visiting hours are over, apparently. I swear they only work a total of four hours a week in this damn country.”

“The Ministry?”

“Yes,” he sighed, opening the door. “It’s how I’ve visited, in the past. There’s other entrances, but we would need to Floo and I don’t know an open one we could use.”

“Can you send him a Patronus? Maybe he’s home?”

He thought about it a moment, stepping off the small space and back into the cover of darkness. They retreated to a nearby alley, like rats to a gutter before Graves even pulled out his wand. The familiar silver wisp sparked out of his wand, making its way into the air. The first time she ever saw him cast it was many years ago, in a routine investigation of a Bowtruckle smuggler in the ports of New York. It was all ordinary – assuming that stopping a man with hundreds of Bowtruckles magically glued to his body was normal – until they were ambushed by a rogue Dementor. If it was released on purpose, or part of the smuggling ring, they never found out, but it was then that Tina saw that powerful bird of prey erupt from his wand, creating a flash so bright that several no-maj four blocks away needed to be obliviated.

Except, the Patronus he cast did not erupt with the power and grace she’d seen so many times before. It formed, barely, before turning into an amorphous cloud and fading into the air. Even the Patronus she received the night she rescued him, or the one in Jauncey's apartment had more oomph than what he just cast.

He didn’t say a thing, but even under the shroud of night she could see the disappointment in his eyes. Whatever magical strength he gathered and unleashed earlier must’ve depleted all manner of magic from him. She already knew he felt useless from not doing wandless magic, knew she made a mistake in calling him a liability, knew that he heard Gorsky call him ‘damaged goods’. That would not do.

Tina was having none of it. She stepped up to him, placing a hand on the little stubble that graced his cheek. It was as cold and hardened as hers must have been, but she would fix that too. Without waiting for his acknowledgement or even permission, she kissed him, as they had done just a day earlier, meaning to remind him she was still there for him, that somehow, they would be alright. He responded in kind, with a hand firmly pressed on the small of her back he held her close and she could’ve sworn she heard a muted noise from his throat.

“Maybe you just needed a happier memory,” she suggested, still brushing her thumb against his quickly warming cheek. “Try now.”

With his lips still pressed to hers and his fingers fanning out to grab more of her, he swung his wand again. This time, the powerful bird blasted out of his wand, maintaining its form, before flying into the sky above them. Graves didn’t even turn to look at what he cast, devoting himself entirely to her and before she knew it, her back was pressed against cold bricks. It was one hell of a contrast against the unstoppable flame pressing her there, leading their dance. The sudden contact had her mind racing and her hand pulling him ever closer and it took but a second for the moment to come to a crashing halt as she found his bruised brow. He pulled away with a hiss, as if he’d been slapped.

“Just a little swollen,” he mumbled, his face still twisted in pain. “Bumped my head a bit, back in the restaurant. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“What else happe-”

The dark alley flooded with blinding light that twisted into the form of a curious badger. It walked to them timidly before sitting on its haunches.

_“My house is on Maida Vale; right by Elgin avenue. Call the knight bus and they will take you. To get in the house, just tap your wand to the Lion’s eye on the gate and say the password - Holyhead Harpies. I’ll be there within the hour.”_

“That’s some crack security,” Tina joked. “Knight bus?”

“I hate that thing, I swear, I told Bob last time I would never board it again. Come.”

She tried to catch a glimpse of the bump she accidentally touched but he turned back to the street before she could get a decent look. Either he just didn’t want her to worry over him, or it was legitimately a problem that he was hoping to find a solution for before she saw it.

Or, knowing him, it was both. What exactly _had_ gotten him exposed in the restaurant anyway?

He only had to point his wand in the air once before a speeding, lumbering beast of a machine came through the rounded corner, screeching and certainly alerting anyone nearby of its existence. Graves did not react at all to the madness, still standing on the sidewalk as the machine – a bus, maybe – came to a halt right in front of him. Steam rose from beneath, almost obscuring them if not for the fact that it was nearly three stories tall and _purple_ of all colors. Between the bus and the phone booth, London was certainly more colorful in its wizarding transportation than New York.

“Tina?” Graves called out before stepping in. She hesitated a moment, but only because of the ridiculousness of the situation, before going in after him.

A short, laid-back man in heavy winter robes looked them over at the door, leaning heavily on a metal pole that ran to the roof. Several of his teeth shone in the little light of the bus, the only real feature that wasn’t obscured by the heavy wool hat covering his face. “Where you lot off to?”

“Corner of Maida Vale and Elgin avenue.”

He lifted his hat, his piercing blue eyes jumping between Graves and Tina. “You're not from 'round here. Where you from, mister?”

There were a few other occupants, sitting and laying in one of the many beds by the back of the bus, and that little question drew eyes. Curious eyes that she knew could very well be a problem.

“Ireland,” Graves huffed, annoyed. “Is that a problem?”

“Well, ‘course not. Place isn’t far at all, just a couple miles. It’s a sickle each, but, bloody hell you look like you lost a fight, mate.”

A sickle? They hadn’t converted any currency and Graves was in no place to walk a couple of miles.

He took one single step to the man, straightening his back as if he hadn’t been limping. “I _won_ that fight, mind ye.”

His voice was low and the attempt at an accent almost had Tina smiling. But it worked. The man’s eyes widened and Tina caught on, continuing for him in the faux Irish accent she sometimes used for her own costume. “Yous should have seen the other lad.”

“Right then, settle in, we’ll be there in a jiffy, Mister…?”

“None of yer business.” He sighed before reaching for Tina’s hand.

They laced their fingers together and without needing to look up at him she knew he approved of her take on their little improvisation.

The short man moved back to the driver’s seat, which resembled more of an armchair than an actual car seat, adjusting the controls that had the door slamming behind them. The bus suddenly jerked forward before they even had time to take a seat at the numerous empty beds by the entrance. She would have fallen forward if not for Graves holding her steady but when she looked up at him he was desperately grabbing whatever other still surface he could. The calm and intimidating face he had put on for their driver suddenly shifted to sheer panic as the bus rounded the corner of Regent Street, diving right and left to avoid the other cars and horses still on the street.

How was this not a huge violation of the Statute of Secrecy? This was a humongous, magical bus, traveling at a speed the no-maj cars were capable of _and by the breath of Merlin they nearly clipped a pedestrian!_

The bus suddenly came to a stop and even whatever grip Graves had on the bus couldn’t keep them from flying forward into the driver’s cabin, falling over the seat and the panel and miraculously not breaking any of it.

“Well, ‘ere we are mister, miss,” he said, looking up at them with fear still in his eyes. Graves shook as he came to his feet, his face a ghostly shade of white as he shot a glare to their driver who began to stutter. “Free of charge, of course; always happy to help our friends from ‘cross the sea.”

Graves muttered something under his breath before stepping – _falling_ – off the open doors and Tina rushed to grab him as he fell on all fours.

“Just give me a minute,” he gasped, head pressed on the pavement. There was a loud crank behind them, and just like that, the bus had driven off and practically vanished into thin air without a trace of ever having existed. “Motion sickness. Maybe need more than a minute.”

She kept her palm flat across his back, trying to reassure him best she could. He was not having a good night by any stretch of the imagination.

The knight bus had deposited them into a quiet, residential neighborhood without so much of a hint that there was any life there. There were rows of houses, new, identical and all brick as far as she could tell, and appeared as if the architect in charge of them wanted to keep that neighborhood uniform. But the residents must not have been too fond of it because the yard and even the decoration between each house varied drastically. Some houses kept a small garden, others had a row of trees leading to the entrance, and the one in front of them which must have been Bob’s house. No other house was as bold as to have a high gate surrounding the whole house with a golden lion about twice as tall as her staring daggers at any visitors daring to pass by. Between the gates and the trees, it was impossible to tell how small or large the house was.

She could only wonder what happened if someone got the password wrong.

Holyhead Harpies. A strange password; sounded like it could be a Quidditch team. She let go of Graves, who was still barely keeping it together and did as Bob instructed, pressing her wand to the lion’s ruby red eyes and whispering the words.

It blinked. Tina stumbled back as the metal clanked and screamed around them as the beast shifted out of its position to let them pass, it’s enormous paws sending a roar and shaking the ground with each step. She quickly swung an arm around poor Graves and pulled him up, eager to get past the lion before it changed its mind or before any no-maj saw them with the enchanted animal. They already had enough to do without adding obliviation to the list.

It was a straight shot to the front door at least. Bob had grown trees on both sides of the narrow path that obscured the rest of the garden from view, and with the branches tangling together overhead, they closed off any moonlight that could have cleared the view. They were alone, or, at least she hoped.

“You look stunning tonight. Did I tell you that?”

She couldn’t help but smile at the comment that came out of nowhere. “No, I don’t believe you did.”

“Well you do. Beautiful. You’re beautiful every day Tina, but, that dress. Damn.”

A part of her wondered how many questions she could ask him and get straight answers from under this condition. So many things she always wondered. Would that be taking advantage of him?

_Yes, Tina, it would_ , her inner voice, her inner _Queenie_ reminded her. The man got knocked around quite a bit already; she shouldn’t have been surprised at the random rambling.

Shoot, Queenie. Her sister would be expecting her home at the end of the mission. Tina needed to find a way to talk to her, quickly, before her sister panicked.

The front door, surprisingly, did not require an Alohomora or even a swift kick to the handle. Talk about lax security for the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Unless, he never expected anyone to get past that lion unharmed which only justified her fear of the beast still sitting back at the entrance. Tina looked back at the lion that had settled in front of the gate, circling the same way a cat would before finding its perfect spot.

Graves immediately stumbled through the front door with a _Lumos_ on his wand. Bob’s tastes in decoration didn’t seem that far off from what she’d seen in Graves’ house, though it was so much more… eccentric. The living room in front of them housed three large, spacious couches, all three a completely different shade of brown. Two looked to be leather, like the one her and Graves had fallen asleep on, and the lightest one, that Graves practically fell into, appeared to be cloth. The walls held a mixture of art and sculptures and photographs from different cultures and time periods with no pattern or sense to it. The corner wall held a clock, but instead of showing the time or the risk of magical exposure, it had four minute hands, each with a picture of a different person, pointing to 'Mum's house'. How odd.

It was an open room, mostly, with the entire kitchen and dining room visible right behind the couches. Unlike the kitchen she had seen in the Graves house, this one only had a single stove and could barely fit two adults. In between the exposed kitchen and living room there were two halls, one left and one right, with no indication as to what they may have held.

Graves exhaled deeply, a sobering reminder that she wasn’t alone and she finally turned her attention to him. A quick wave of her hand had all the lights in the mismatched room come alive, finally allowing her to look at him and _there was blood everywhere_. His suit jacket may have been dark, but the splotches of blood darkening it further were unmistakable under bright lights. The parts of his waistcoat that were white were a mix of red and brown-red, and that certainly could not be mistaken. Now the putrid smell of death and decay made sense.

“ _Graves, are you bleeding_?” She tried not to sound panicked but failed. It would have explained so much – his weakness, his limping, his pain. And she almost apparated him across the Atlantic.

Still, she did not wait for his answer, ripping open his waistcoat, buttons be damned. He merely looked up at her, his tone confused, even annoyed. “No, it’s not my blood.” He finally muttered before letting his head fall back to one of the pillows.

She finally looked up at him, _really_ looked and her heart nearly froze again as she noticed the swollen mess of red that travelled from his cheekbone, to his eye and up to his forehead, nearly deforming the left side of his face. It almost had his eye swollen shut and was already starting to darken into a light blue.

“What do you mean it’s not your blood?” Her hands shook as she asked, still tearing at his bloodied waistcoat, but thankfully not as bad. With those layers off she sat on the couch by his side, looking down at the shirt and tie that was somehow still untouched, and by the feel of it, showed no cuts or gashes anywhere she could see. She pressed her palms to him, every inch she could, searching, looking but praying to find nothing but his warm, untorn flesh.

“A man, in the bathroom. Disarmed me and tried to beat me to death. Came really close to cracking my skull open on the mirror, too, the fucker. He was the one who did, well, most of this,” he gestured loosely to his face, letting his arm fall limp when he was done. “But I got him first. With a piece of glass from that same mirror. How ironic.”

_Tried to beat me to death_ , the words echoed in her head and she felt her heart clench and it did not let go. She could only have imagined how helpless he felt, fighting without his magic. Without help. Without her.

“Someone tried to kill you? Who?” Her voice cracked at the end, and while she did all she could to appear calm and composed, it failed again.

He brought his hand over hers, stopping her from tearing all the buttons off his silk shirt. “It’s alright, love. I’m shit at dying,” he said the last bit with a weak smile, bringing her hand over to his lips for a kiss. “I’m fine. I'm here.”

“And you’re not leaving,” she asserted, unable to let the shock and anger go at the thought of that man succeeding. She tried not to imagine coming out of that hole with Grindelwald and not finding him at the bar, waiting for her. She tried not to imagine trying to call him on the mirror and hearing nothing but static and silence. She tried not to imagine the panic while searching through every crevice of that damn restaurant looking fruitlessly for the warm eyes only she knew existed, that she’d never see again. But she couldn’t, and it was all because Graves showed up. “You weren’t even supposed to be there!”

It wasn’t his mission, it wasn’t his job and he almost got himself killed. Now he was sitting there, smugly, pretending everything was alright – it was not alright.

“I wasn’t, and I know,” He pushed himself up, the move clearly causing him discomfort, still trying to stop her frantic hands. “Stop, it’s alright.”

“It is not alright, Graves, none of this is alright, we’re in _fucking London_ ,” she growled; how could he think that things were fine? “Why did you go, I-I told you not to, I-.”

His arms were suddenly around her and as much as she still wanted to smack him, to show him how pissed off she really was that he almost died; that he almost risked everything, she couldn’t. Not when the relief of having him against her overpowered all the pain, when merely hearing him breathe reminded her he was there. “I know, I know. I got myself into this mess, but _you_ , Tina, _you_ got me out of there. You did beautifully, all night. The only person that fucked up everything was me,” his voice sank to a whisper. “Bob will get us home.”

She nodded, pushing her cheek against his, hoping to find some of his scent still there to calm her and found it, very little, but there all the same. The only breath of fresh air in the depths of hell her mind had just taken her to. She dug her face into his neck to breathe him in, trying to remind herself that everything was going to be fine. That they would find a way home. That he was right there.

Even though he almost wasn’t.

He embraced her, holding her so tightly it was impossible to move, and for a moment, she couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. He was the one with welts on his face that had him rambling like a drunk, who fought off an attacker with his own hands, and she was the one that needed comforting. How pathetic she must have looked. But, until that moment, until it dawned on her that he very much could have died, she just never saw him as a mere mortal. This was Percival Graves, the Director, the real force of MACUSA. This was the man that survived and even thrived at every mission she’d been a part of, that lived through an unspeakable hell with Grindelwald. At no point did she ever _really_ imagine he could, at some point, falter and perish, and that sudden realization hit her like a damn train. And knowing how close he was to that and nearly unable to fight back due to that curse on his hands, and so close to her without her even knowing about it was the icing on the cake.

It was in that moment, in the arms of the man she’d grown so fond of, that she truly understood, at her core, why he went to The Silent Owl after her. It really wasn’t about her, at all, like he had said. It had nothing to do with his trust in her abilities or skills. It was because he felt completely helpless watching her from so far away, and just wanted to be there to intervene if anything got ugly. Just like how she wished she could have known he was in trouble, so she could have intervened. It was foolish. It was reckless. But he followed his heart, as she was once punished for doing.

Perhaps, they weren’t so different after all.

“I’m amazed you aren’t more upset with me,” he whispered and she sobbed out a chuckle. “Really.”

“Maybe after I get over the shock of almost losing you.”

Now he chuckled again, his fingers running through her hair and playing with the tiny knots that had emerged over the course of the nearly failed mission. “It happens more than I care to admit.”

“Please don’t tell me that.”

His head turned and she could feel the warmth of his mouth, the soft push of his nose against the outer shell of her ear. _He’s here, and he’s alive_. “Some men – and, even women – have wanted me dead for years. Sometimes, they nearly succeed. Not often, but, enough.”

The truth in those words pained her. She took a deep breath of him, her entire face still pressed into the crook of his neck where she could feel his heart beating, strong and proud, even despite his injuries. “It comes with the job.”

“Yes. It does,” he sighed, tracing her bare, strapless shoulder and drawing a breath from her. “I try not to dwell on them; the close calls. I take what I can from it. I learn. And I try to bury it.”

She pressed a hand to his chest, appreciating how it moved with his steady breathing. Somehow calm, and collected against the fury of emotions still plaguing her. “What did you learn about this one?”

“To trust my partner,” he said, and she felt the warmth in his voice; grinned a little too hard at the nuzzle against her ear. _Partner_. Not a subordinate, like he said to the President that past week. But a partner. “And, maybe, don’t blindly follow your emotions.”

“Agreed, on both counts.” She breathed, pushing into him, coating herself in his scent.

She didn’t know how long they stayed there, in each other’s arms. At one point the distant chimes of a clock alerted them that it was two in the morning, which meant it must have been around nine at night in New York. It didn’t even feel like the mission went that late into the evening. But they still stayed past that last chime. For such a brutal man, who was able to dispose of a violent attacker with his own hands, he was incredibly gentle. Almost as if it were a completely different person, there, providing a steady pressure against her back and playing with her hair all while whispering the occasional _‘it’s alright’_ whenever she squeezed him a little harder.

“I should get to healing your head,” she whispered, having a tremendously hard time pulling her hands off him. “Hopefully Bob won’t mind me using his potions.”

He reluctantly let her pull away, his eye now in even worse shape than before and she would have been surprised if he could see out of it at all. Even with that bruise that nearly took up the entire side of his face she could not stop looking at him. If anything, it just went along with the scar on his hands, and the little she saw on his chest, proving that Percival Graves was, indeed, ‘shit at dying’ as he had put it.

“You’re not broken,” she whispered and he looked back at her with surprise. “Or damaged goods. Or a liability. Or useless.”

There was a burst of red from his neck, floating to his cheeks, and he must have noticed it because he looked away.

No. She would not let that go. She took his chin, pulling it back to her and into a kiss. Something soft, and endearing. The simple act, still new to them, comforted her, and she hoped it would never go away. “I mean it,” she muttered. “Can you look me in the eye and name one other person in the office that would have survived Grindelwald’s month of torture and then come back to work four days later like nothing had happened?”

“You.” He said quickly, without a moment’s hesitation. That man. Even with a head injury the bastard was still at the top of his game.

“Can you name anyone that you weren’t currently kissing?”

He sighed, still annoyed at himself. “No.”

“Anyone that could summon a Patronus with a twice-broken cursed hand?”

A low, unhappy hum came from his throat as he realized he was defeated. “No.”

She smiled. “Anyone that can put up with me?”

There was that famous smirk. “Definitely no.”

Graves now took her chin as she ha done with his, keeping a magnetic hold on her with only two fingers, finally returning her kiss. But he did not mean to take it slow; not even a bit. He pressed into her as if begging to deepen it and she obliged, parting her lips for him to invade and lay claim to. It only took a second for him to respond, to slowly brush that teasing tongue against hers. Even with an injury, even indisposed, the man was the embodiment of passion, of _fire_ , and she wanted to be burnt.

But it would have to wait.

The front door rattled.

\--

Percival went from utter bliss that nearly made him forget about his injuries to sheer panic. Tina, much faster to react, thank Merlin, jumped off him, wand at the ready before the door even flew open.

“Expelliarmus.” Tina called at a very confused Bob Ogden, pulling the wand from his hand and right into hers.

“What in the devil-”

“It’s alright, Tina, this is Bob Ogden,” he tapped her leg, gently and she relaxed. “It’s about time, Bob.”

“Sorry sir,” she stepped forward, handing him back the wand that was far too long for a man of his stature. Though Bob always did have an enormous personality, to be fair. “Can’t be too careful.”

“Right you are, lass,” Bob nodded, shaking her hand. He had long black robes on, finally looking more normal and even dignified than the previous day in his office. The spectacles on his head still shrunk his eyes though. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly acquainted. How very rude of you, Percival.”

He rolled his eyes. Leave it to Bob to see him beat up on his couch and still prod at him.

“Porpentina Goldstein, sir, I’m an Auror.”

“Assistant Director,” Percival corrected softly. “And Auror, yes. Where are Lilly and the kids?”

“We’re on holiday, Percival. Foreign concept for you Americans, but Friday is Christmas Eve you know,” he responded sharply, stepping up to get a better glance at Percival’s bruised face. _Fuck_ , was it really? How did he not notice? “We were in Edinburgh, with my mum. I arranged for them to set up elsewhere until this is settled. Really can’t be too paranoid; not anymore.”

“Good. How are they?”

Bob passed them, going over to the tiny kitchen and pulling out a kettle and a few cups. Tea. They wouldn’t be in London with their host without being offered tea.

“All good, happy to report. This is Cecil’s first winter break from Hogwarts and the boy actually misses school. Can you believe it?”

“Absolutely,” he smiled, thinking of himself. To think there was a time where he was having fun, in school, with his friends and dreading to go back to that old house. “You probably bore him, after all.”

From the corner of his eye he could see Tina smiling at the comment, still wearing that dress. Stunning. He meant every word earlier.

“Must you degrade me in front of a beautiful woman?” He asked, the water already starting to boil. Percival didn’t need to look to know that Tina had blushed. Given how much attention her sister had always gotten, it was not hard to imagine that she didn’t often get that compliment, which was a shame. One he would correct, if he could. If she'd let him.

Bob still had not asked them any of the big questions he had been preparing for and frankly he didn’t know how he would explain some of those. They’d ended up in London due to a vanishing cabinet – something he did not think was possible – and were, presumably, stuck unless they could get through the same cabinets. They didn’t have the luxury of traveling back on one of the scenic routes, though with Tina by his side, he certainly would not have minded. Hell, he wouldn’t have minded showing Tina around London. There were so many quirky shops - all of Diagon Alley really - and even quirkier people, scenic areas Bob had shown him, and life, so much life. New York was merely a copy of the melting pot of cultures that London had grown over thousands of years.

It only took a few minutes for Bob to bring out the tea, and even though he didn’t particularly care for it, he took it anyway. He figured it couldn’t possibly make the injuries radiating across his body any worse as he tried to sit up properly on the all too comfortable couch. Tina took a seat by him, too far for his liking, but probably the right move. Bob did not know about them, yet, and Percival wasn’t sure if that would really be the best time to mention it. So, he sat quietly, not looking at the woman he desperately wanted to touch, knowing from the radiating warmth and the sinking couch that she was just inches from him.

“I take it you two didn’t fly here,” Bob started, handing them their teacups. They were white, emblazoned with the Ministry logo. “Am I right?”

"Graves isn't much of a flyer." Tina commented and, while it was a dig at his choice to jump to the platforms, he was not going to let that go.

"Accomplished Beater and team Captain for three years, Ms. Goldstein," he said, avoiding her glare but smirking all the same. "Even Bob knows."

"Far too much, I'm afraid," he chuckled. "Wouldn't have been Captain in Hogwarts though. May not have made the team, actually."

"At least I would've fit on the broom." Percival poked back, looking down at Bob's belly.

"Oh, enough, now. How _did_ you two get here?"

So much for postponing the inevitable. Percival gave a curt nod to Tina, an understanding he would start them off, and explained their work and the mission to him, as thoroughly as he could. Tina would occasionally interrupt, describing how she managed to get a hint about The Silent Owl and the traitor and he happily let her, enjoying hearing her retelling of the story. It was much more optimistic than what he had been preparing, and to his surprise she took no stabs at him for stepping out of bounds and nearly ruining everything. No, almost completely ruining it all, really. The Silent Owl would probably never be used by Grindelwald again so they lost that hint, he got beaten bloody, and they were stuck in London with two days to go until that damn hearing. He really, _really_ should have trusted Tina the first time around, and now they were all paying for his poor decision.

“Grindelwald knows that we suspect there’s a traitor at MACUSA,” Tina said, taking one last sip of her tea. “He told Travers as much. So, she knows, as does Dawlish.”

“But they don’t know you know about _them_ , in particular, right?” Bob asked, sitting across from them with his legs crossed.

“No,” she said, crossing her leg the same way. The dress rode up a little bit and he couldn’t help but look at the exposed skin, wanting to run a hand over it. “We still have _that_ advantage, at least.”

That was a prod at him; unintentional, but well-deserved.

“If they try to lure you into a trap it will be obvious, then,” Bob mused. “Though following them just got a tad bit harder. No matter, we can figure a way around it.”

And they wouldn’t have had to, if he didn’t intervene when he wasn’t needed. It was hard not to let it get to him, not when the effects of his stupidity were front and center. “Were those the only ones you saw, Tina?” Percival asked.

“From MACUSA? Yeah, just Dawlish and Travers,” she said. “Do you think there are more, Mr. Ogden?”

“Please, dear, call me Bob,” he smiled, and even though Percival knew Bob to be a gentleman, knew he was married with two kids, he still couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. “But, yes, it’s completely possible not all were invited to that dinner. Did Grindelwald leave with them?”

“He apparated, sir-Bob,” Tina emphasized. “There’s no way he can do that to New York, which means, he must be here. Somewhere.”

“And if one of his followers made it through the shitshow, he’ll know we’re here too.” Percival added.

“Which means we have to get you two back through those cabinets tonight, before he can close you off,” Bob put his cup down, uncrossing his leg and leaning forward. “Do you remember where the emergency exit was?”

“Regent and Air, I think.”

Tina nodded as he spoke. It was a relief to remember, and even more of one that she was paying attention too.

“I’ll rustle up whatever Aurors we’ve got, see if we can raid the-”

“That’s how he was able to jump between Europe and America so quickly.” She interrupted, suddenly.

“Tina?”

“Before we found you, Graves, Grindelwald was spotted all over Europe, all the time, while still impersonating you in America. This is how. The vanishing cabinet.”

Bob stood immediately, disappearing into one of the nearby halls. He wasn’t sure what the hell Tina meant; he’d spent that month in a hole without any access to the outside world and he always assumed that Grindelwald was in his body that whole time, wreaking havoc on MACUSA and his own personal life. Now Tina was suggesting he was also in Europe at the same time? If it were true then the man must’ve gotten less sleep than Percival did. At least it would have explained the constant crankiness.

When he came back, he had a stack of Daily Prophet issues nearly flying out of his hand that he dropped onto the coffee table between them. “Lilly doesn’t love that I hold onto old issues of the Prophet, but, I find reflection can be quite useful.”

The papers he brought ranged from the beginning of November to the past week and it wasn’t much different from The Ghost with its outrageous titles and probably slanderous articles. They each pulled out any front-page mentions of Grindelwald and found six different issues from the beginning of November up until the date they found Percival in December. Each of those headlines had him causing death and destruction somewhere else – Bratislava, Berlin, Paris, to name a few. All on dates that Percival had been stuck in that briefcase.

“He did love having a back-up plan,” he sighed, putting down one of the issues. “It also means that he depends on the vanishing cabinets.”

“If we find Grindelwald, we’ll find a cabinet back.” Tina added quickly.

“Exactly. We should move, quickly,” Percival said, pushing off the couch but the overwhelming pain from his body had him falling back just as quickly. Tina immediately dropped a hand to his knee, holding him steady and offering whatever comfort she could as he tried not to make any embarrassing noises. “That fucking chair; _fuck_.”

“I understand your hurry, Percival, but excuse me for saying that you look bloody terrible. Let me and my team handle this one. We’ll secure one of those cabinets for you.”

“But-”

“I insist. Though, I must ask, what happened?”

Bob pointed to his own face and he wanted to sink into the couch even further. He didn’t need Tina to be even more worried about him. Before he even noticed what he was doing, he laid a hand on her knee, carefully laying each finger one by one. He let his fingers dance over the smooth skin; such a small touch, with so much more behind it. Tina's whole body seemed to clench, snapping him back to reality and he dragged his hand back to his own knee, looking to Bob in fear of what he just revealed.

“My transfiguration wore off, in the restroom, and I was recognized.”

“Ah – I take it the gentlemen there were not friendly.”

“Not one bit.”

“How did it wear off?” Tina asked, softly and now it was Percival’s body clenching.

He shrugged, keeping his eyes focused on Bob’s. If he so much as glanced at her, he would crack, he just knew it. “Perhaps transfiguration is not my strongest subject. Something I’ll take note of in the future.”

There was no way she was pleased with that answer. Even Bob didn’t seem particularly thrilled with it. The problem was that casually admitting that he had a panic attack in the middle of, quite possibly their most important mission, was nothing short of embarrassing. Plus, Tina had been through enough – had _heard_ enough – and he didn’t need to add more worries to her head. He’d deal with his panic attacks on his own time.

“Bob, do you have a potions lab? I want to try to brew up something for Graves to get the swelling down.”

“It’s modest, but yes. It’s down the hall to the left. We don’t have any potions books though.”

She stood, completely avoiding his gaze. Another small gesture with so much more behind it. “No, it’s alright, I don’t need a book. Thank you, Bob.”

A heavy silence fell with each step she took around the couch before exiting and leaving the two men alone. There was no way that Bob didn’t notice any of that, and knowing him, no way that he wouldn’t mention it.

“Firewhisky?” Bob suddenly asked and it took Percival by surprise. The last thing he needed was alcohol but he found himself nodding, knowing whatever was coming next might need to be soothed.

True to form, Bob pulled a bottle from the kitchen, the same one that he’d accidentally smashed to pieces in his office. The benefit of having a friend whose family had a centuries long tradition of making quality Firewhisky. A couple of glasses tumbled out of one of the many cabinets, whooshing past Percival’s head to land perfectly on the table separating them.

“She’s the Assistant Director, then.” Bob said, his eyes searching Percival’s for any hint of emotion. The bottle poured itself, giving him a much more moderate serving than what he’d allowed himself a few hours earlier. That was probably the normal serving, he reminded himself.

“Until the hearing, at least,” he clarified. “But yes.”

“And?”

“Hm?”

He was not pleased with Percival’s playing dumb of the whole thing, taking a long sip. His eyes burnt a hole into him, but he’d be damned if he gave up the jig that quickly.

“She’s quite a looker,” he noted. “And if she’s brewing something from the top of her head, she must be bright.”

“She brewed me a Potion of Dreamless Sleep from memory too.” Percival thought back to their time on the weekend. He’d been a little impressed then, but didn’t think much of it until that moment.

“And she’s the one who rescued you.”

“Yes.”

Another long pause. If Bob was less of a friend and a gentleman, he would have used Legilimency to find out the truth. But, judging from the obvious stares between the two of them in front of Bob, and the way he put his hand on her knee – _why the hell did he do that_ – it wouldn’t take complex magic to figure out the truth. Damn it all, even she had grabbed his knee at one point.

“Does Grindelwald know?”

_He used those feelings against me for a whole fucking month._

Percival cradled the glass in his hand, almost afraid to drink it in. He had to give it to Bob; he knew exactly which question to ask that he couldn’t just push aside and find a way around. Especially because it wasn’t just a throwaway question, it was something that had a real, meaningful impact on not just him, but her too.

“Yes.” He said softly, avoiding Bob’s eyes.

Bob exhaled sharply, staying silent for a surprisingly long time. Neither man did much other than take a sip here or there and he was terrified of what Bob would suggest. Ending things with Tina was out of the question, and wouldn’t even help the situation. Even if he tore at her heart just to break them up, the feelings for her wouldn’t fade overnight.

“He’ll use it against you, you know.”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a plan for it? If it happens?”

Now Percival took a breath, swallowing hard. He tried not to think about it, for the most part.

He shook his head, still avoiding Bob’s eyes.

“My mentor always told me love was the death of duty,” Percival said, sitting back on the couch with an empty glass. “He was the former Director of Magical Security. Died on the job.”

“Do you truly believe it?”

“I used to. Up to a month ago. Now, I don’t know anymore.”

“I think it can certainly be easier to devote yourself to your job without anyone tying you down. If that’s what’s truly important to you, if it’s what gets you out of bed in the morning.”

“But?”

Bob smirked. “But it doesn’t mean that love will hold you back either. Life is balance, you know, and it depends on your attitude.”

“Yes,” he said, trying to sit straight; proud. But deep down he was terrified. Terrified of Grindelwald taking her again, of being hopeless to prevent her suffering. “How do you do it, Bob?”

“Lilly is very patient me, I’ll give her that,” he laughed. “But, we both understand the risks. I do my best to keep her and the kids safe. And we treasure our days, as much as we can.”

“And if you had Grindelwald after the two of you?”

“I’d treasure every second.” He polished off his glass.

Now Percival wanted to laugh. Easier said than done. How he wanted to spend some real time with her; to take her out on a date. He’d taken so many lesser women out on dates and now that he found someone worth it, he had to keep her secret. It was decidedly unfair.

“Keep each other safe, but, trust each other too. I’ll do what I can to help you two, but you’re not in an enviable position,” he put the empty glass down and stood again. “Now, I’m going to go gather the Aurors before it gets late. We really need to get you two back.”

Percival started to stand, fighting the blinding pain from his right knee, from his back, from nearly everywhere. All because of a terrible dismount; what a mess he’d created. But still, he made it a point to stand no matter how long it took to get there, to give Bob a proper thank you for the help and hospitality. It was the least he could do. Before leaving, he pointed out the spare room they could use; something he meant to convert into an office soon so Lilly’s parents would have less incentives to stay over. He was more surprised that Bob, at no point, suggested separate bedrooms. Not that he would have gone with it, but, it was nice to see the support, no matter how little.

Bob warded the house before leaving, and Percival made sure to add enough locks to the front door that there was barely any free space on the wood. He gave no indication on when he’d return, suggesting it may take a few hours to rustle the team together, to make a plan and execute it. He merely suggested they try to get some rest in the meantime.

It was good advice. But as he stood, alone, in the deafening silence of the living room, he reflected on the other piece of wisdom Bob shared with him.

_I’d treasure every second._

He would.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts:
> 
> The knight bus was commissioned in 1865
> 
> The telephone booth (the red one in England) first appeared in 1920. The all red version started popping up in 1926.
> 
> Regent Street (modern day) is pretty cool, feel free to Google map it. If you Google it specifically for 1920s you'll see what Tina described.
> 
> And, will these two finally get together next chapter?? It's about time, isn't it? Who knows. Tune in in a few days.


	15. For the Longest Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't care what consequence it brings  
> I have been a fool for lesser things  
> I want you so bad  
> I think you ought to know that  
> I intend to hold you for the longest time
> 
> -Billy Joel, For the Longest Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been patiently waiting for nearly 100k words for these two to actually let go and have a little fun, here's to you!

The simple act of walking may as well have involved climbing a damn mountain. Percival had been through some grueling cases in his days, but never had he been barely able to put any pressure on his right leg, and certainly never had to use the nearby walls for support. It wasn’t broken, as far as he could tell, but whatever he did was worse than a simple bump. And with his magic leaving him unable to do something as simple as cleaning the blood off his discarded clothing, there was no way he was healing that himself. No, he’d have to drag himself to wherever Tina had holed up, an unpresentable mess with only his wrinkled shirt, torn trousers and a tie that dangled loosely across his chest along with her mirror.

She was dazzling in that dress, while he was a crumpled mess. She deserved better from him.

He made his way through the narrow hall, careful not to bump into Bob’s many scattered items as he dragged himself along. They weren’t hoarders – yet – but in between the collection of Prophet issues, the pile of discs sitting on top of a dusty gramophone, and the broomsticks stuck behind the worn couch, they sure were trying for it. Not to mention the collection of photographs that took up every available inch on the wall. His son, Cecil, always seemed to run away from the proud parents in every picture but the younger girl – Poppy, he remembered – was always snuggled up with her dear old father. Hah, _old_ ; Bob was younger than him by quite a few years. And, infinitely happier if the smiling pictures were any indication.

If he’d had a family of his own, would they have noticed Grindelwald taking his place? Would their existence have dissuaded Grindelwald from choosing him?

Or would they have become mere casualties from his mistakes?

 _Stop_ , he thought, shaking his head and banishing the thought, before it could take over.

_Treasure every second._

With each step, he realized that there was another sound in the house, one that didn’t come from his shoes scraping against the soft carpet. It was soft, and low, and as he took another step towards the only open door a few feet from him, it grew louder. There were no words, but it was very much feminine, and more, it was _happy_ too. He didn’t need to look into the room to realize that the soft humming was coming from Tina, and something had cheered her up. But what?

It didn’t matter. That gentle hum, as silly as it seemed, was life, against the deathly silence he had become used to waking to every night. A sign of hope that even then pulled him from the dark recesses of his mind.

He scanned the room briefly, noting the shelves lining each wall with more ingredients than he could count or even name, and found her sitting on a high bench in front of a self-stirring cauldron. Alive and unharmed – no thanks to him. She continued humming a song he couldn’t place, and it was only when he blinked again that he saw the pair of paper birds dancing in front of her, seemingly to the tune of the song on her throat. The birds flew in sync, chasing each other and as the humming grew in intensity and climbed, so did the birds, before falling together and continuing their dance once again.

But it wasn’t as much of a sight as she was. Sitting there, looking herself, but still with the little black dress she concocted and he perfected. Something clearly meant to be simple, comfortable, and easy to move in which was so distinctly _Tina_ , but with a touch of elegance that oozed sex. That, he imagined, must have been her sister’s influence and he did not mind it one bit. It fit her thin body perfectly, leaving little to the imagination but without cheapening her either. And from that angle, he swallowed in the stunning woman in front of him, from that long neck he couldn’t wait to put his lips on, down to the one exposed shoulder that begged for his caress and the surprisingly strong arms that he knew carried him part of the way to that kitchen exit. And that smile; the delighted twinkle in her eyes as she played with the little birds. It was all…

“Beautiful.” He muttered, barely above a whisper. The birds fell, the hum stopped, and she immediately looked up in mild surprise and he finally realized he said that out loud. Except, that time, it wasn’t such a bad thing. He should have told her as much a lot sooner.

“Just something from school days,” she smiled, turning to face him but for some reason crossing her arms in front of her as if she’d just become shy. “Potion’s almost ready – just another few minutes.”

“I wasn’t talking about the birds.” He interrupted quietly and her face lit up unlikely anything he’d ever seen.

 _Beautiful_. He did mean that, completely.

He took another step inside, the soft footsteps echoing louder as the carpet suddenly turned to wood. The sudden shock had him leaning heavily against the doorframe; the pain almost too much to bear. And Tina, bless her, was on him quicker than he could have predicted, dragging him over to the bench she’d just been sitting on. For once he was all too happy to take the helping hand and take the seat when offered, especially when it resulted in having her hands all over him. Now he felt like a fool for never asking for her help after hundreds of missions over the years.

She suddenly slapped something cold against the bruise on his forehead, the sudden chill choking out any sound aching to escape his throat. “Hold this here a minute. It’ll help the potion work faster.”

He grit his teeth; this was not what he had in mind when he initially walked over. _Fuck, that really hurt_. He knew better than to fight her though and followed her directions immediately, grasping the wet towel and holding it in place like his life depended on it. Without batting an eye, she knelt in front of him, almost in between his legs. He froze. There was nothing to stop the wonder of imagination, not when he could feel the heat radiating off her body, not when he could see the bright red bra she kept hidden under the dark dress. And when she suddenly met his curious gaze, purposely or accidentally – he didn’t care – wetting her bottom lip, it sent a chill down his body that had him rambling like a drunk again.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“Fixing you,” she replied quickly, her tone impatient. Of course. What else did he think? _Awful ,Percival, awful._ The sound of a zipper quickly filled the room and he found his spats suddenly discarded, with her hand wrapping around his shoes next. He couldn’t help but jerk his leg back a bit at her eagerness, but she merely looked annoyed. “May I?”

“You’re supposed to ask that _before_ removing someone’s clothing.”

“Or before altering it,” she glanced down quickly at her dress, flashing him a quick smile. “So, may I?”

There was no need for her to do it; he could still reach. But he found himself nodding anyway.

She undid the laces, pulling and tugging on them so hard that he could feel it pressing against his feet. The dedication was palpable, at least, even if she would end up destroying it in the process. With both shoes off and discarded by his spats she finally slowed her pace to roll up his trousers. Somehow, this was not how he’d imagined her removing his clothing in his many fantasies, but it was hard to be upset. Not while her hands probed every muscle of his exposed skin, looking for any sign of bruising or cuts that he hadn’t disclosed.

His knee, at least, did not look as terrible as it felt. Sure, it was swollen, and red and was just another item to add to the list of things that he hated Tina had seen of him, but it could have been worse. The impact alone should have damn well shattered it.

“I don’t think it’s broken, but you may have sprained something. Can you move it?”

“A little.” He tried, stupidly, to bend it and nearly cried out at the surging pain.

Not being able to walk, given where they were and how little time they had, may as well have felt like a death sentence. Whatever affected him was more than just a bump; Tina was probably right about a sprain, and he didn’t have the skill to heal that. He could do minor bruises and cuts; that was easy. But repairing real damage? That was far too advanced, even for him, and they didn’t exactly have the luxury of going to a Healer. Too many people would know him; even across the pond. Too many eyes.

Tina had stood back up and had her attention back to the cauldron. It was impossible not to notice the gentle curve of her waist, or how her dress hiked up just a little when she stood on her toes to grab something from one of the high shelves. That may have been the only dress he’d seen her in, but it was in that moment that he decided that black fit her perfectly, especially against the soft bounce of her equally dark hair. He took a deep breath at the sight, letting his mind wander, something that he didn’t even try to stop from doing anymore. At that point he was too far gone.

For years he had pushed her away, hoping to keep the bubbling emotions at bay. After all, he needed to focus on his job; needed to protect his team and his community. So many needs to be met, except his own, every time. Yet, all it took for the massive walls he spent years crafting to come down was one single hug in a cold hospital room. Something so simple, so small. It was something others would scoff at, but the little act opened up the floodgates and he knew there would be no going back - not after allowing himself to taste happiness for the first time in so long. He’d completely fallen for the woman now filling several vials of the green potion, seemingly oblivious to his blatant admiration.

The warmth; the _happiness_ that filled him was immeasurable. It’d been so long. This, _this_ , he could become addicted to.

“Here, I made you something. It should, in theory, at least make you look less like a balloon again.”

He tried not to look worried. “In theory?”

“I haven’t brewed this since my sixth year. So, I improvised with the ingredients Bob had.”

Now he did look worried. “You _improvised_?”

She shoved one of the vials into his free hand, as if daring him to complain. “Yes. Substituted horklump juice for a silverweed. Added an extra bit of honeywater to make up for it and stirred clockwise two more minutes. It _should_ have the same effect. In theory.”

It may as well have been gibberish to him, but it was still mesmerizing, to see her talk about something she clearly knew a lot about and may even have been passionate about. Percival Graves did not do potions; not since school, but he was glad she did her homework, and a little upset he never noticed she had such a knack. But why potions? An odd skill for an Auror.

She pulled the cold cloth he’d been holding, leaving only a memory of the bitter chill. “After that we can try something for the pain.”

He popped the cork off and took a sip from it, trying not to grimace at the aroma of an earthy mix of freshly cut grass that sat uncomfortably on his tongue. “So, this concoction will get rid of some of the swelling?”

“Either that or you’ll grow a third arm; fifty-fifty chance really.”

He- _what_? He coughed up the potion immediately, but _oh fuck fuck_ , the coughing fit had his whole chest hurting and Tina was _laughing_. Ah, fuck. She got him.

Her hand fell to the back of his shoulder, tapping it as if it would actually solve anything. Still laughing. “Don’t die on me, Graves.”

“You’re not making it easy, woman,” he coughed again, trying to finish the rest of the swelling reducing, potentially arm growing potion that fucking tasted and smelled like damn grass. “Fucking hell.”

“It doesn’t get easier. The balm for the pain stings like a bitch. You have been warned.”

The balm to reduce pain _caused_ pain? Fuck, this was clearly not going to be the enjoyable evening he had originally pictured when he was still in his office. “Just get it over with.”

“If you say so,” she mumbled before taking out a bigger vial that resembled a shampoo bottle more than anything. The thick liquid that oozed out emitted a white-yellow steam that certainly did not look normal, or friendly, or that it ‘only’ stung. “This lasts for about eight hours. We’ll start with your face. Close your eyes,” she instructed and he did as told; how bad it could it be? “On the count of three. One, two-”

He was ready for a sting. He was ready for discomfort. He was _not_ ready for a shock of lightning that rivaled the Cruciatus Curse in intensity, which had him digging his nails into the wood bench hard enough to bleed, and releasing a sound from his throat that even he didn’t recognize. The world nearly went black for that moment and he had to struggle to stay conscious, in that room, with her. He was only vaguely aware of her hand spreading the goo on him and desperately tried to focus on that sensation instead of that of his skin being eating alive by fire.

And, as soon as it began, it was over. The pain quickly replaced by euphoria, and now he could only barely feel her hand still brushing against him, that relief also fading quickly as the area become completely numb and immune to all touch. “Good as new.”

“Our definition of the word ‘sting’ is _very_ different, Goldstein.”

She raised an eyebrow to him, creating a smugness around her that he was often accused of doing himself. “I thought beaters were supposed to be tough. Especially the ‘accomplished’ variety.”

She knelt again, getting ready to pour that nasty solution to his knee. Now that he knew what to expect, those doe eyes and friendly smile did not fool him.

“Does it surprise you?”

“What?”

“Me being a beater. Does it surprise you?”

“A little, I mean, it’s a very brutal position,” she poured the goo into her palm, giving him a quick nod before reaching for the afflicted area. “I would’ve expected a keeper.”

This time he couldn’t help the pain-filled groan that filled the little room as his knee burst into flames. “Too reactive, too boring.”

“But hitting a bludger at someone is more your style?” She put her other hand on his healthy leg in an effort to soothe him and he quickly found himself grasping her fingers a little too hard.

“I don’t see it that way,” he said, focusing on the words and not on the fire still consuming him. “It’s a protective position, mostly. But, one where you can switch to offense easily, when the time comes. Your goal is to protect your team – your chasers – usually by throwing the threat back to the other team.”

“Or throwing an entire kitchen at your enemies.”

The remnants of the fire evaporated as quickly as they came and he allowed himself to breathe again. Her hand, still pressed into his inner thigh, did not yield, especially with him holding onto it for dear life.

“Something like that.”

“Still, they made you Captain? I’ve never seen a beater be a Captain before.”

“And there hasn’t been one, not since I graduated,” he smiled down at the witch still kneeling in front of him, enjoying the tense yet soft hand still on him. “It happened my fourth year, after the final game. Not one person from the team got whacked; not once, the entire season.”

“You must’ve been pretty proud.”

“Oh, if you thought I was obnoxious now, you should’ve seen me at fourteen,” he thought back to his scruffy little self, so long ago, so full of hope. “Now picture this – championship game against Wampus, so the stands were packed, a fact that’s even more impressive considering it was raining kneazles that day. That had been my biggest game yet.

“We’d been winning it pretty handily, but Wampus started catching up, and in the blink of an eye we went from dominating to bleeding points, and it was getting worse every minute. I knew that we needed to end the game, right there and then if we were going to win, so I turned my attention to our seeker – Thaddeus. Tiny kid, barely five feet tall but a tongue sharp as knives, and there he was, chasing after the snitch.

“I wasn’t the only one who noticed this, of course. I rushed to stay close to him and they sent one of their own beaters to do the same. We crashed mid-air; he knocked my paddle off and I had him barely hanging on his broom, it was a mess. That’s when I saw the bludger heading right for Thaddeus, and I didn’t even think twice – I flew right into it. Well, it flew into me too.”

“You took a direct hit from a bludger? That could’ve killed you!”

“Nearly did. I passed out immediately, woke up two days later at the hospital wing. Broke my collarbone, several ribs; you name it.”

“But did you win?”

Percival almost laughed, marveling at the woman who had become so enraptured in his recollection, who only an hour ago was panicking about his near encounter with death.

“Really? I tell you I nearly died and that’s your primary concern?”

“I already know you’re ‘shit at dying’,” she said, suddenly pinching his leg and sending a little burst of heat through him. “So? Did you win or not?”

“Of course we won. Thaddeus was the one to tell me, and I still remember what he said next – ‘ _you just had to make sure you got all the glory in my last game, didn’t you?_ ’ I miss that kid. Last I heard he was in China, trying to train dragons to fly people over the ocean.”

It was one of the few days he still remembered vividly from Ilvermorny, one of the happiest ones even. Sure, he took one hell of a hit for the team, but he made a legitimate difference. It wasn’t even about becoming the Captain; that was a nice bonus and reward for the work he put in, but to know that he kept everyone safe and _happy_ was what really kept the memory alive for him. Even after all those years.

But now? After two decades as an Auror? After Gellert fucking Grindelwald? He couldn’t keep people safe anymore. Couldn’t even keep _himself_ safe, for Merlin’s sake.

“Graves?”

Percival snapped out of the depths of his mind, seeing that Tina had moved back to the bubbling cauldron and had been asking him a question by the looks of it. The little area her hand had made home now unreasonably cold and empty.

“Sorry, love, can you repeat that?”

“Second time you call me that.” She smirked at him, setting the nearby cleaning supplies to take care of the used cauldron.

“You don’t like it?”

“I do, it’s just,” she paused, as if searching for the right word. “Unexpected.”

Unexpected. If anyone a year ago had told him he’d end up spontaneously in London, after Grindelwald, and in love he would’ve told them to lay off the Gigglewater. And somehow, because of the irresistible woman sauntering over to him without an ounce of innocence in her eyes, he wasn’t completely upset about his predicament. Not when she deliberately dropped her hands to his shoulders, feeling the still bruised muscles below before teasing up the sides of his neck. It was something so simple and gentle, but he suddenly couldn’t imagine not feeling those same hands on him every day.

“I had asked, if you became an Auror for the same reason you became a beater.”

“How astute of you,” he said, wrapping his arms around her bare legs and pulling her just a little closer, enough for him to brush his lips against the intricate fabric of that wondrous dress. It wasn’t fair for her to have all the fun, after all. “Not exactly, but I did believe the same methods would work. That the best way to lead a team is from behind. To watch when and where you’re needed and provide support and expertise. That’s a real leader. Not someone who merely barks orders from the safety of his desk.”

“That if a man has to call himself a king-”

“Then he is no true king,” he completed. “So, you do pay attention to my office musings.”

“When it’s convenient.”

One of her hands strayed behind his ear, brushing the delicate and often forgotten area with care. Something so gentle, and so heavenly. He leaned into her touch, knowing there was no denying how that affected him, and not caring that she knew how easily she had him twisted around her fingers.

“I actually thought I could keep the same track record as I did in Quidditch. That if I just worked hard enough, cared enough, I could get everyone home at the end of the day.”

“And you did, for the most part.”

“For the most part. But perfection doesn’t exist in this business; I’ve told you that too. I couldn’t keep people from dying; I wasn’t a God, no matter how hard I tried to be – oh, don’t laugh, Tina.”

“I didn’t say a thing.”

And she didn’t need to, not with that grin softening her features. He supposed he did walk right into that, but to hell with it. The soft touch behind his ear nearly had him forgetting what he was saying.

“Eventually that day came, when I lost someone. Not just another Auror but a friend; a _partner_ , and well, I didn’t handle it that well. Blew up my dining room that night.”

“I don’t think anyone is ever prepared for that.”

“No one with a heart, anyway. I’m not saying I’m special in that regard,” he said, trying to focus on her and her touch, and not the tormenting past that tried to grip at his consciousness and draw him down. “I hated it. I felt responsible. It was _my_ team. So, I put in more hours, did more research on what I could’ve done differently. I started to distance myself.”

“Became an asshole at times.” She teased.

“It was easier that way. To work harder. To be colder. I told myself it was what was best for the success of the team.”

“And for your heart.”

“Exactly. It’s how I ended up practically living in my office in the last few years. Alone and stressed.”

She leaned down and pressed a kiss onto the mess his hair had become. “Not alone anymore, _love_.”

 _Love._ It felt better coming off her lips than his. He held her just a little closer for that, breathing in the intoxicating perfume that had somehow survived the turbulent day. Still intoxicating and ensnaring him into her grip. “Not anymore.”

So many years living in misery. Worrying, stressing too much about always getting everyone home, to the point where nothing else mattered. Pushing people away so the pain would lessen when he’d inevitably fail. Forgetting happiness. Pushing away love or any other way he’d get himself attached. But now, now he would right things, somehow. Now he could make up for lost time, with the attentive woman still stroking his cheek and ear. She deserved more from him. For five days she’d been doing nothing but treating his sorry self and that just would not do. It was time to turn the tables. It was time to treasure every second, as Bob had suggested.

“Tina?”

“Hm?”

“On Saturday, you said you and your sister liked to dance?”

The confusion on her face was priceless and for a moment her hands had forgotten all about him. “Yes?”

“Would you dance with me?”

\--

Graves. Dancing. A dancing Percival Graves.

The image was incongruous with everything she knew of him. It was almost cartoonish to think about, but it gave her warmth that could have brought spring to London.

Tina blinked, once, twice. His expression had not shifted one inch. He had not begun to laugh; no, in fact he was quite serious. He may as well have asked her for her latest notes on a case they were working on. A part of her had to wonder if that little substitution in the swelling potion added delirious thoughts and actions as a side effect. It wasn’t uncommon in a lot of healing potions, and hell, even she’d gotten hit by that before and started unleashing her secrets to the world. At least only Queenie would know of her embarrassing love of trashy romance novels.

“Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

He still sat, patiently, searching her eyes for an answer.

“Absolutely,” she finally breathed, her relief not at all matching the one to flood his eyes. “But, now? Where? Your knee-”

He pushed himself off the bench, still careful not to put weight on the problem knee. She may have numbed it enough for no pain to get through, but whatever was torn or twisted was very much still damaged and could become worse. He didn’t seem to care very much, not as he suddenly took her hand and dragged her out of the dimly lit room whilst still carrying a bit of a limp.

This Graves she could get used to. Still the passionate and powerful man she had known since day one – that would never change – but open, and talkative, and pulling her back to the living room with an eager smile that wiped away years of stress and anxiety and reminded her of the Graves she met before she even joined the Auror program, eight long years ago.

“I regret to inform you that they are not fans of wizzjazz.” He suddenly mumbled, looking down at a pile of discs sitting on the corner table, by one of the leather couches.

So, he did remember. And a part of her thought that he would have chosen to obliviate the memory of that conversation.

“I think that’s for the best; your knee isn’t quite ready for something like that.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

It didn’t take much of Graves’ fiddling for the machine to come to life, bringing sound and life into the otherwise empty room. Whatever he picked was not quite wizzjazz, but it wasn’t exactly the old fashioned traditional music she expected from him, either. In fact, it wasn’t a wizarding band either. It was just jazz; no-maj jazz.

For a moment, Tina wondered if he had any experience in doing that type of dance. Graves, doing the Charleston? No one at MACUSA would ever believe her; even her sister would think she manufactured the memory just to mess with her. But those warming eyes, they had a quiet kind of excitement looming just below the surface but something else too. Something she hadn’t quite seen in him yet, not yet anyway.

“I don’t quite know the steps,” he said, slowly. With a quick wave of his wand, the coffee table at the center shrunk, allowing them a small, but cozy dance floor. “But you do.”

Did she? She hadn’t quite heard this song yet, with the trumpet leading the rest of the instruments into the same controlled chaos that wizzjazz was famous for. She could figure it out, though. At least, that’s what she told herself as she kicked off the low heels she had on, standing barefoot as he was. He rolled up his sleeves and carefully placed the mirror from his neck – Queenie’s mirror – along with the bloodied clothes that had nearly given her a heart attack.

“Put your hand here,” she said, pulling up one his arms to her shoulder while she did the same. It was an odd feeling, to have only his shirt pressing against her fingertips and letting her commit to memory every groove of the tense muscles beneath; and damn was he tense. “And hold my hand, like this.”

She clasped her free hand with his, where he gripped her just a little too hard, where she could even feel the once calm pulse grow ever quickly, shaking against her palm. It was then that it dawned on her; the uneasy look, the stiff pose, the tense grip – he was nervous. 

Percival Graves, the fearless man who charged Grindelwald and his followers in a dark warehouse, nervous about dancing. It was enough to bring a silly grin to her face.

“Just move with me, alright? If I step back, you step in,” she said, bringing them just a little closer together as the wild trumpet continued to thunder through her directions. “If anything hurts, tell me.”

He took a breath, glancing down at her feet. “It doesn’t hurt. My ego, though, will be a different story.”

“I think you’ll survive a Charleston.”

Tina would make sure of it. She started slow, wanting to see how flexible he’d be, and how much he could do with the busted knee. The answer, surprisingly, was that he was more reactive than she expected, matching her steps and moving fluidly back and forth. From back, to center, to front, and back again – but still completely stiff. He limped a little when he had to use his bad leg, but without so much as a grimace because the whole area was numbed beyond belief; she’d made sure of that. Even on that bad leg, he kept up, but she didn’t dare try to do any twists or anything fancy.

“Not bad Mr. Graves. First time?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not really. Well, I expected you to be worse.”

A low hum escaped his throat, loud enough to compete with the jazz band, and with it, he held her just a little tighter. “Relax a little,” she whispered, letting the hand on his shoulder linger back up to his neck, where she knew she could turn him to mush. “There you go.”

“I am perfectly relaxed.”

He was not. She suddenly turned them, prompting a firm grip from him and a flash of panic to take over his calm demeanor. “Are you now?”

But the little gesture, as playful and harmless as she intended, had him suddenly shifting all his weight to her and not because of the fear. “Maybe we should try something a little slower.” He growled, rubbing the afflicted knee.

“Sorry, Graves-”

“It’s alright,” he muttered, pulling his wand out of his pocket. The thundering jazz came to an abrupt halt as the disc flew back to its case, another one taking its place. All without ever breaking away from her. “We’ll continue that once I’m a little better. I promise.”

The music began again, this time something softer, dominated not by the shrill of a trumpet, but the keys of a piano that introduced a far greater chorus of instruments, all collaborating on producing something much softer and organized. This, she imagined, was the type of music someone like Graves could be caught dancing to, in a grand ballroom. Probably with a fancy tuxedo and an even fancier girl on his arm. And yet, as he encouraged her hand around his shoulder and laced each of his fingers with hers, it didn’t feel so odd or out of place. Even his eyes had calmed, seemingly lost in hers. The nervousness from before, the stress of the case; all bygone memories replaced by the loving man in front of her.

He’d lowered his hand, lingering a little too long over the backless portion of her dress before finding his home at the small of her back. There was something oddly calming about partaking in such a formal dance while her partner did not even attempt to look the part; with his untucked, wrinkled shirt, messy hair, and torn trousers. Despite all that, it was by far the happiest he’d ever looked and Tina was all too pleased to lean into him. She’d seen enough examples of the waltz to know that her cheek shouldn’t be pressing against his like that, that their bodies shouldn’t practically be touching, but Graves said nothing as they swayed with the slow melody.

“Tina?” He asked, his voice softened against the shell of her ear, as if anything he were to say next would be meant for her, and her alone.

“Hm?”

“Why potions?”

Tina smiled, surprised it took him that long to ask. “It’s a long story.”

“It’s a long song.”

He swung them to the side, gently, keeping his grip on her intact. It was a story she hadn’t divulged to anyone in so many years, and as much as she enjoyed this new intimacy with Graves, she wasn’t quite sure about opening up about something so personal. Not because she didn’t trust him, but because she didn’t trust herself with the emotions the story normally brought.

But he was waiting. And he _had_ shared something deeply personal with her too.

What the hell. She was in London, in a stranger’s living room, dancing a waltz with the man she was growing to love.

“My parents always liked to travel. It was their ‘thing’; it was how they met, actually. Mom was doing some work as a Healer in Africa where dad was on vacation. He got himself caught in between an Erumpent and its mate and nearly got himself killed. She healed him back to health, and, well, the rest is history.”

“Sounds oddly familiar.”

She pushed her nose against his ear, playfully, as he had done before, feeling an immediate squeeze of approval on her waist.

“They were doing another one of their trips during my third year, to Peru. Queenie had just started school. Mom was treating a man with dragon pox and ended up catching it herself, and so did dad. Whatever strain they caught didn’t respond at all to the treatment.”

She paused, leaving almost no hint at any emotion at that last little sentence, letting the conclusion of the story hang in the air between them. This was rehearsed. But she knew damn well that no matter how many times she told that story, no matter how numb she’d make yourself to it, that the pain never, truly, went away. It always lingered, and sometimes, it struck when least expected.

And now, he resurfaced it, if only for a bit. “Tina, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know-”

“Hey, it’s alright. It was a long time ago,” she said, continuing to move with him, making sure their dance continued. Focusing on the firm grip of the man in front of her, and not the face of her and her sister when he headmaster gave them the news. “But, the experience had me wanting to perfect the cure; to make it so that no one else had to suffer from it. So, I slaved over my potions classes, fully intent on becoming a potions master.”

“But, you became an Auror. What changed?”

“You’re going to laugh.”

“Probably. Tell me anyway,” he brushed his thumb up against her back, slowly, methodically. “Please?”

“Fine, fine. I was dating this guy, William-”

“Hate him already.”

“Shush, you,” she playfully smacked his shoulder. “He wanted to become an Auror and dragged me to this seminar where this _man,_ a Chief Auror _,_ with a cocky smile, slicked back hair and a black leather jacket was giving a talk about signing up for MACUSA’s Auror program.”

She purposely let that little bit hang again, letting him draw the conclusion and from the surprised chuckle against her ear, he figured it out pretty quickly. “You forgot eloquent, polished, and-”

“Cocky. So, so full of himself,” she lifted her hand from his shoulder and pressed a finger to his lips to shut him up. “And he brought up all these daring stories of battles and undercover missions and expeditions across the country. He was so _passionate_ about his work, about making a difference and saving lives; he had the whole room hanging on his every word. I was completely hooked. I wanted to go up to him after the presentation – I mean every girl did, practically – but I never did.”

“Because you knew I was trouble?” He murmured through the hardy barrier still pressed to him.

“My sister suggested as much, trust me. But, no, I was nervous. You had so many people on you and my question was dumb anyway.”

He kissed the finger still trying to shush him, wanting her to withdraw it. “What was it? Maybe I can still answer it.”

A quick sigh escaped her as she realized he wasn’t going to let her go until she said something. She parted her lips and stopped, thinking carefully about it, even then, eight years later. “Do you think someone like me can make a difference?”

The words came out in a mocking tone, as if she was embarrassed of her seventeen-year-old self for even daring to think that, and a part of her was. To think she almost asked something so silly to MACUSA’s future Director. That she could-

“You already have.”

The soft answer took her breath away, and for a moment, she forgot they were still dancing.

He didn’t need to explain his answer. His body did all the talking at that moment, planting a sweet kiss on her cheek before brushing their intertwined hand with his thumb. He continued to lead them across the little space they carved out, moving slower as the pace of the music also began to slow. There were no words to this song, but the soft piano spoke of something sweet and gentle, loving even. She sighed. _Love_.

“Graves?” She called, softly, her cheek still pressed to his.

She could feel his chest heave and she took a deep breath, taking in that fresh scent of pine that was both so soft and welcoming yet mixed with his natural musk, bringing a wild flavor that was so very much _Graves_.

“Percival,” he murmured, placing another soft kiss to the corner of her lips. “In private, it’s Percival.”

 _Percival_. Tina closed her eyes with another breath of him, feeling her heart flutter as they continued to press into each other. It felt more intimate than anything else they had done. It felt right. Percival.

They swayed with the music, reveling in the little pleasures of having each other so close and uninterrupted for once. He would nudge his lips ever closer to hers, teasing what they both yearned for but withheld, not for lack of want, but the little fear of knowing that what would come after would leave them both changed. That even though those little words weren’t explicitly said, at least not yet, they would roar to life under the cover of night. Under the cover of bedsheets. They both understood, from the way their bodies were already intertwined on their makeshift dance floor, their heartbeats growing opposite the intensity of the music, that nothing would stop them. All they needed was another kiss to bring it to life.

“How long did Bob say he would be out?”

“Few hours.”

Tina nudged him gently, turning slightly to see the passionate eyes she knew would be waiting for her. “And how long has it been since then?”

He perked an eyebrow, understanding the weight of her question. “Not a few hours.”

“Hm,” she sighed, teasing a kiss to the corner of his lip, taking in the bitter scent of firewhisky that still lingered on his breath. “So, we are alone, until then.”

The hand that had been patiently gracing the small of her back suddenly came to life, drawing her body to his in a way that she was sure that traditional dance did not find appropriate. Tina wasn’t exactly surprised at the shift but couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her.

“Yes,” his voice dropped, lower, purposeful and more powerful than anything she’d heard during work hours. “Completely.”

The possessive grip did not let up as they moved through the room, and Tina wasn’t sure she ever wanted it to. The layers of their clothes at that point were unable to keep their heat from merging with one another, yet reminded them, painfully so, it was still there, keeping them apart and their dance at just that, a dance.

She brushed her lips ever so lightly on his, feeling the sudden intake of air from him at her continued tease. “Is the door locked this time?”

“I put twenty-three locks on that door.”

 _Twenty-three?!_ Excessive, yes, but after being interrupted by Queenie, and then by Bob in the same manner she could hardly-

He pressed his lips to hers, finally, pushing away whatever hint of a thought that remained in her mind. Yet, even with their bodies held to that single point of contact, their hypnotic swaying continued flawlessly. Tina could barely keep up with the small turns, not when he would kiss her with the desire of someone who’d been waiting years for the opportunity to be there, at that spot. Knowing him, after all the stares and small touches they spent years pretending didn’t exist, that meant nothing, she knew the urgency was all too real.

It was a fight for control that they both knew the results to. When he coaxed her open, massaging parts of her lips and mouth she forgot existed, she could only barely manage to hold onto his shoulders for support. It was a relentless push, one after the other, to taste, to feel, to _burn_ and Merlin she wanted this man.

“Does he have any guest rooms?” She found herself asking, pulling away only to breathe.

He kept her close, his breathing more exhausted than hers as he suddenly stopped their dance. “Yes, but, we don’t have to rush this,” he breathed. “If it’s not what you want, yet, if,” he continued. “I wouldn’t be upset. I _am_ patient.”

Still the gentleman, even frazzled and pushing what must’ve been a painfully hard erection against her thigh. Those little words at the end, in such perfect contrast with Grindelwald’s ‘ _I am not a patient man’_ speech. It only served to elevate her desire to be even closer to him, to know him as intimately as she could. Because no matter how shattered he thought himself to be, no matter how monstrous he somehow imagined himself, she knew better.

There was not a shred of doubt in her mind when she found the patterned tie and pulled him back to her as if it were a leash, lips crashing together, both yielding and dominating at once. “I think we’ve both waited enough.”

That was all the encouragement he needed as he led them to a small room, not breaking from their embrace for even a second. She could not care less about where he’d taken her, only vaguely aware of a creaking door opening behind her, of the back of her legs suddenly meeting a soft mattress, and the fading music as the door shut behind them. They were alone now; truly alone but inseparable all the same.

He pulled out his wand, lighting one of the candles by the far wall and allowing her to see the man that was drunk with lust, but contained enough to not ravage her, not yet.

“I want to see you,” he muttered, as if understanding the question in her eyes. “All of you.”

The desire controlling his voice had her snapping off each button of his shirt, but he would not make it easy. He pushed the entire length of his body to her, more muscular than she ever remembered, forcing her down on the bed but with his wrinkled tie still tangled in her fingers, she pulled him down too. There was something so alluring about seeing him in this state, with hands that dug into every inch of her legs and hungry lips that pressed onto her neck hard enough to brand her and stake his claim. And oh, with that tongue tasting every inch of her skin as if it were the most delectable dish, she was his.

So gestures showing the need he couldn’t withhold, yet, with a patience that she wasn’t sure she was capable of.

There were still far too many layers between them. Tina pushed herself up a bit, eliciting a low growl from Percival as he was forced back to his knees, eyes questioning her move. She practically tore off the last of the buttons in what was probably an expensive shirt, but even he didn’t seem to care as he shrugged off it and pulled off the undershirt below. It was soft, white – cotton perhaps – same as the one he was wearing when she rescued him. She had never imagined, that night, that she’d have both palms pressed against his battle-scarred chest, feeling his heart pounding against the tips of her fingers. Never even thought her fingers would brush the delicate hair that lined his torso, down, lower and lower until there was only a single trail that disappeared into his belt. With each feather-light touch against his hardened skin, Percival's chest heaved harder, teeth bit deeper into her bottom lip until she was sure he was snarling like an animal.

“Not yet,” he managed, pulling her hand off the stubborn metal and back to his chest. “Patience, love.”

She traced a particularly long scar that ran from his stomach nearly to his collarbone, smooth and devoid of any hair, kissing him in protest. ‘Shit at dying’ was an understatement; that cut must’ve had him knocking on death’s door. But he chuckled into her lips, reveling in whatever game they were playing as he kept her from exploring below his waist. _Patience_. Between him and Queenie it was a miracle she hadn’t turned into a monk.

He placed his hand to the center of her chest, gently pushing her back to the bed; or, he tried to. Tina fought back, keeping their kiss heated and full of promise of what was to come.

“Lie back,” he instructed, softly, pushing her again. “Trust me.”

“And let you have all the fun?”

“You’ll get your turn,” he insisted, moving his hand over one of her breasts. “But first, allow me to take care of you.”

He-to _take care of her_. At that moment, it wasn’t the dedicated hand teasing over her bra that had her obeying his commands, but the idea that he wanted to take care of her; not just in general, but before himself. After quite a few selfish lovers, Tina had convinced herself such a man didn’t exist, but damn, he was hiding inside Percival this whole time. And now, with her back on the bed, she let him, still surprised, as he brought his lips back to the base of her neck, leaving marks she wouldn’t want to remove in the morning.

He moved down slowly, but steadily, dragging his lips through every inch of exposed skin, tugging at parts of her dress to reveal _more_ skin for him to grace with his lips. Each little kiss, each graze of his teeth just screamed _mine_ , and Tina couldn’t help but squirm as he pressed to her chest, trying to fight his way past her bra to the breasts she hid underneath.

“It’s a damn shame that you’ll transfigure this dress back in the morning.”

“I do actually own one,” she gasped as he traced the edges of her bra with dangerous intent. “Similar to this.”

A pleased grunt escaped him at that remark. He tugged at the dress, clearly wanting to get to the secrets below that Tina had been hiding so well up until that point.

“Pull it up,” she instructed. “And over. If you want it off.”

“If I don’t, I may just rip it to shreds.” His voice lowered again and he wasted no time in pulling the twisted fabric over her head, discarding it to the far corners of the room.

But instead of going back to where he left off, he just stared, taking in every detail of her body that suddenly made her aware of just how exposed she was in just her matching bra and underpants. Before she even noticed what she was doing she crossed her arms over her chest - even in spite of the room's boiling temperature - and prompting a frown from Percival. Not anger, or frustration, but the look of a man worried that he'd done something wrong.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his gaze softening. It was incredible how quickly he could subdue himself.

“Yeah, sorry,” she mumbled, but did not remove her arms, the insecurity still nipping at her. “Not used to the staring.”

“How could I not?” He came back down, kissing her tense arms. “You look incredible, Tina.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

He took hold of her wrist, determined but not aggressive, dragging it below his belt. The bulge that greeted her didn’t take her by surprise, but the grunt that escaped him sure did. She stroked along his length, which was stretching the front of his trousers beyond what was probably comfortable and he hissed through his teeth as she pressed harder into the heat. Oh he was just perfect.

“I am very clearly, not exaggerating,” he said, sounding pained. “I meant it when I called you beautiful.”

Before she could further explore the little he allowed, he brought his lips back to hers for another sweet embrace. It was then, with his chest pressing down against her stubborn barrier of an arm, that she decided she’d rather feel the soft pricks of his hair against herself too. She managed her arm around him instead, letting his weight fall against her, letting their burning skin mingle and remind her their barriers were falling, one by one. It was absolute heaven to be pinned by the immovable force she knew as Percival Graves; a moment she fantasized about more than her sister would've preferred but Merlin, the control he exerted over her body, over his own was intoxicating.

He continued to kiss down her neck and chest, and with a single click and a slight pressure to her heart, she felt her bra fall to the side. A small part of her desperately wanted to cover herself; to keep him from seeing how embarrassingly small her breasts were, but he would not give her the chance. She was almost lifting her arm back when his lips wrapped around one of her nipples, stopping all motion from her, voluntary or involuntary. It was impossible to bite back a moan, not when his teeth teased the delicate skin, not when his free hand found her other one and teased it mercilessly between only two fingers.

This was something she just had to see. Tina looked down to find fire staring back at her, to find his tongue, wide and heavy, circling just around her hardened nipple before wrapping around it again and _pulling_. Oh Gods, she knew she loved this before her time with Percival but his massaging was so precise, so raw and hot that she couldn't even control the moans slipping out of her throat.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, his voice gravelly as he continued to move down her body, stopping just beneath her bellybutton. “Even the sounds you make, Tina. Damn.”

His fingers hooked around the elastic of her underwear, but paused. Even with the motion stopped she couldn’t stop the sharp jolt to her heart at the expectation that having those fingers there, clearly communicating their intended move. But he continued to press his lips to her covered skin, avoiding any of her more sensitive areas, on purpose she’d bet.

“May I?” He suddenly asked, meeting her gaze.

“ _Yes_ , damn it.”

She could feel the practically see-through fabric start to slide down, allowing skin that was usually never exposed to kiss the chill in the air. He dragged his lips across the newly revealed skin and Tina couldn’t help but squirm underneath him, the mix of fear and excitement of having him right there, where each kiss touched on more and more sensitive skin, causing her to tug at the loose strands of hair on his head just a little too hard. Percival was undeterred by her reaction, lowering it further, and further, until his breath provided the only semblance of cover from the outside world.

There was a moment where she expected him to be a tease, to push those lips everywhere but where she needed it most; it seemed more his style. But damn if they weren’t both at the end of their ropes already, and he damn well knew it. He quickly pushed that sharp tongue against her, starting a slow but heavy pace that had her twisting the sheets. It was quite amazing how she quickly she was beginning to unwind under his touch, while he merely looked back at her with a quiet intensity. The controlled man that lay there, with his lips wrapped around her sex almost appeared a different animal than the one dragged her into the room; and even more a stranger to the normally calm and collected man all of MACUSA knew.

Ah-fuck! That dreaded tongue circled around her, teased at her begging lips before pressing hard and fast into her and now Tina was sure she ripped off part of his hair. He brought his arm up, resting an impatient hand over one of her breasts and drawing more noise from her as the fire joined and grew over the same, concentrated area. Too much at once, yet, not enough to push her over. She clutched at his forearm - a heavy, muscular structure that held her in place - begging, _pleading_ for just a little more as she ached for her release against his hot mouth, still slashing torturous caress after torturous caress until the world around her faded. At that moment she would’ve done anything for him to just push inside her, as rough and dominating as she knew he could be; to come unwound, her name on his lips. He must’ve sensed her urgency and pressed a finger inside her while his lips wrapped around her and _sucked_ , hard and fast and oh! But it was not enough.

She arched her back, the pressure almost too much to bear and now she _did_ beg him for more, not caring about how desperate and needy she must have sounded. And boy, did he oblige. Before she could ask again, he pushed another digit in, curling both fingers against her begging walls and practically pulling the thundering orgasm from her, not with a moan, but with his name fresh off her lips. A name she hadn’t imagined ever screaming in bed when she first met him, but couldn’t imagine saying anything else. _Percival_. It _was_ right.

\--

It was fucking beautiful.

The way his name struggled off her lips, desperate and satisfied all the same. The way she clutched at his arm as if he could actually leave such a scene. Or hell, the way her entire body clenched on and around him, shouting its release even if Tina decided to remain completely silent. All beautiful.

At that moment, Percival decided he could watch Tina fall over the edge every single day and die a happy man.

He felt a painful throb from his pants at the thought, his body aching for the release he’d wanted for so long. He wasn’t sure how it would end; it would be her decision, and if she were to fall asleep he would have no problem taking care of it himself. Regardless of his choice, those damn trousers were an obstacle and he needed them off, quickly.

“Percival,” Tina suddenly said again, reaching for the belt he was fumbling with. His body – his hands- shaking so hard with anticipation he temporarily forgot how to undo something so simple. “Let me.”

It was also at that moment that he knew it would be far sexier for her to undress him than for him to have to do it himself. So he allowed it, watching eagerly as she tugged and pulled at the metal which clinked as it came undone. That little sound, a symbol of things to come, sent a sharp jolt through his groin that nearly had him in pain. And now, with Tina ripping off the buttons of his pants by making sure to feel the entire length of his cock in the process, he was sure that whatever they did next would not last.

And he was usually so proud of never being a 'two-pump chump'. He wasn’t sure he could even make it to one that night.

“Tina,” he gasped as she jerked his pants down, his cock finally free from its constraints. “Please, _please_ tell me you’re taking something.”

He pressed a hand below her stomach, enjoying the smooth skin and showing her what he meant. He may have been open as to how he'd finish, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have a preference.

“Well,” she started, her lip curling as if she were about to laugh. “My sister may or may not have convinced me to take a potion when I met her earlier today. She said I’d regret it if I wasn’t ready.”

Now it was Percival who almost laughed. Queenie Goldstein, saving the day. Night, really. “I think I owe your sister a Christmas present.”

“Me too,” she whispered, taking his lips with force. It was so unlike the mewling mess a few minutes ago, and he let her bring him down to the bed. “I want you.”

Those three little words almost ended their game right there. Percival helped her in kicking off his pants and underwear, leaving him completely exposed to her, the room; everything. His wand was… somewhere in the room. He was completely helpless, with his woman there, and there was something oddly liberating about it. To not feel an ounce of fear, or worry, or paranoia and just enjoy the moment. To truly let go.

He brought another kiss to her lips, slowing it down considerably considering what he wanted to do to her. The soft, sweet scent of her perfume rose to meet him; the only scent on the entirely of the world that had the power to both calm him and drive him mad with desire. As he settled himself between her legs, their sharp gasps filled the otherwise quiet room and he decided he’d buy her a gallon of that perfume once they got back to New York. And instead of reminding him of his pitiful rescue, it would remind him of that very moment, where he first joined their bodies in one swift motion and buried himself in her with one loud groan into her lips.

He stayed still a minute, enjoying the heat of her muscles enveloping and clenching against him. Tight and hot and oh so _good_. Afraid that a single movement would set him off, and he realized that no matter what he did, he would not last. “Tina,” he gasped into her ravenous lips. “The second time will be longer.”

“If there is a second time.” She teased, bucking her hips against his and drawing another pained moan from him.

Ah, fuck, that woman. He’d get her for that, but not at that moment. No, at that moment he took complete control of her body; pressing his fingers into her hips in a move that would probably bruise as he started them off in a slower pace than he would’ve for a first time. He’d wanted to plunge into her for so long; to hear her desperate cries against his skin whenever he pressed a little harder and gave her just a little more of him. Now that she writhed under his weight, he couldn’t believe it took Gellert fucking Grindelwald to enter his life for him to finally indulge in something – someone – so wondrous.

She moved in perfect rhythm with him, matching him thrust for thrust, those soft expressions twisting in pleasure and it was then that he knew he didn’t want to finish without watching her again. He brought his hand down, frantically massaging her clitoris in sync with the quickening pace he’d set. The look of delighted shock she flashed him nearly made his day.

“I won’t come ‘til you do.” He said into her neck, enjoying the sudden prick of nails raking across his back at his words.

She dragged her fingers through his hair, pulling, tugging and _wanting_ , the show of her desire for him nearly sending him over the edge as he bit back his own overwhelming lust. He pulled at her hips as he wanted, adjusting his angle and immediately feeling the sting of teeth against his shoulder, the soft moans from before replaced with breathless cries that yearned for release. Merlin, she was exquisite. From the way she bit her lips in lust to how she held onto him for dear life, because she wanted him, truly wanted _him_.

With a sudden cry of his name, she clenched and he got to feel her arch against his body, saw her throw her head back in pure ecstasy as he pulled another orgasm from her; just as beautiful the second time around. In that blur of a moment, his pace became erratic and wild, and he finally let everything go. There was a sweet pinch of nails on his skin, and he let go of his guilt from ghosts of his past. Her lips suddenly clung to his, binding them together and he let go of his fear of the darkness surrounding them. A moan reverberated against him, sounding out his name again, and he let go of his anger. And as their bodies melted together, he finally let himself go, her name rolling off his lips and into the night.

But as they struggled to regain their breath, hands still tangled into each other’s bodies, there was one thing he would not let go of. Her. Because, against all odds, she had slain him, and when he would eventually roll out of that warm bed and into battle, he would not be the tortured man Grindelwald had made, or the distant, stressed workaholic of days past. No, she’d brought something else out of him that night, and that would be his armor.

“I have to admit,” she finally whispered, still out of breath. “When I saw how terrible your Charleston was, I was a little worried about how you’d be in bed.”

He chuckled into her neck, kissing away the beads of sweat that had gathered. That woman. “Happy to prove you wrong.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.”

Ah, Tina. He gave her a quick, hard thrust, receiving a surprised gasp in return for her insubordination and now she was laughing with him. He kissed up to her lips again, this time something calm and slow, with a different kind of warmth from what they were used to. The little candle he had lit was now at its last breath and he could just barely see her soft, decidedly pleased features looking back at him. It was bliss.

He eventually rolled aside, allowing Tina to turn to him and rest against his calming chest, which she did not hesitate to do. He merely kept his arm around her, dragging his fingers across her back and shoulders to memorize each little scar and groove he hadn’t committed to memory yet. Even exhausted from their release, they still could not keep their hands off each other, and he hoped that would never end.

“Do you think Travers and Dawlish are the only ones?” He asked, thinking back to the case.

“Hm?”

“The only traitors in the office. Or do you think there’s more?”

“Well, you said Bob mentioned that Grindelwald always had a ring leader. I don’t see Travers or Dawlish as that influential, or powerful.”

“Yes,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to the tangled mess her hair had become. “I don’t trust completely trust Picquery right now.”

“Me neither.” Tina whispered, her voice disappointed. He understood; to think that their president could be working for Grindelwald was nothing short of a disaster, but they couldn’t count her out.

“Two days,” he said. “We’ll figure it out.”

That hearing on Friday morning was going to involve a lot more than him having to plead his case. Grindelwald would want nothing more than to have him out of there, replaced with one of his own followers, and there was no way he could let that happen. He couldn’t leave his Aurors – his team – at the hands of that man, couldn’t leave Tina to him either. He’d already almost killed her once, and he knew he’d try for it again if he could. But Percival would not let that happen.

“Percival?”

“Tina?”

“This is some of the worst pillow talk I’ve ever heard.”

He smiled, holding her just a little closer for that remark. “But is it _the_ worst?”

“Well no, you’re steps ahead of the ones that would’ve been asleep right now.”

From the little he’d heard so far, it didn’t seem like Tina had many good experiences with past boyfriends. He wasn’t exactly a bastion of good behavior either; he’d certainly been selfish in his younger years too. Deep down, he was still a little worried he’d make the same mistakes and end up pushing her away too. This time he couldn’t afford to. Not with her.

“I need to tell my sister I’m safe,” she said, pushing up on her elbow. “Do you think a Patronus will reach her?”

That was a damn good question. “I’ve never tried, but, it’s possible.”

“Can I borrow your wand, then? I left mine in the potions lab.”

A pause. He’d never let someone else use his wand before; not willingly anyway. He was tempted to just offer to send the Patronus himself, but what message would that send?

“Go ahead; it’s on the floor, wherever my pants landed.”

He was rewarded with a quick kiss to his forehead that had his chest warming immediately.

“Accio Graves Wand!”

There was some rustling on the floor before the thin object flew to her hand, as if it belonged to her. A part of him dared say that the dark, sleek design fit her as well as it did him. She traced the length, playing with the mother of pearl inlay, as if fascinated by the object so dear to him. If he had to guess, she was probably equally fascinated that she took his wand from him so easily.

“Probably has to be a strong Patronus, for it to work,” she mused, looking down at the wand. “Might need a really good memory, though.”

There was a kind, but mischievous smile in her eyes that hinted at so much more. He’d already satisfied her twice that evening, and yet, she was asking for more. _This_ … this he could become addicted to. Easily. Willingly.

He pinned her down to the bed, eliciting a surprised laugh from her as he kissed the wet, dark strands from her eyes and cheeks. He could taste the mix of her perfume with her natural scent hot on his tongue, getting his heart beating a little faster, his intentions quickly going beyond just a kiss.

“Did I earn a second round?”

“Depends,” she sighed into his mouth. “If it is indeed, longer than the first. Then yes. Absolutely yes.”

He smiled into their kiss, watching from the corner of his eye as Tina summoned a bright, singing Blue-Jay from his wand, lighting up the whole room for a moment. To think, they were each other’s happiest memories, even in such dark times.

True to his word, the second round did last much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, these two are worse than teenagers in love. And if they already could barely hide it from Bob, it'll be a real challenge once they're back at MACUSA. If, they ever get back of course.


	16. People Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tina,” he forced himself to call out, his heart pounding again, the fear coming not from Grindelwald’s smug face, but from something else entirely. “Don’t.”
> 
> Don’t what? Don’t be upset because I'm losing my mind? Don’t pity me?
> 
> Don’t what, Percival?
> 
> “Don’t go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More flashbacks! Hopefully this and the upcoming ones will better cement just what type of asshole Grindelwald is.

_Another sharp pain to his stomach._

_Another day with only a single, dry loaf of bread that he couldn’t even bear to hold properly._

_How long had it been? How many days?_

_Nine… no, ten?_

_Fuck. He was starting to lose track. Exactly what he told his Aurors never to do._

_The pain had him turning over in the emptiness again, desperately trying to focus on something – anything else. Trying to find some comfort, somewhere, somehow._

_But… nothing._

_Just pain. His stomach. His hands. Every muscle that couldn’t stand the hard floor anymore._

_An ache that would never quiet._

_Merely existing was becoming a different kind of hell._

_He was being pulled. Summoned. It was time for his daily bread and daily ‘chat’. Fuck. He didn’t know what was worse; the sensation of being forcibly shot through a portkey or the mounting dread at knowing what was to come. More news that highlighted how little anyone noticed that Mr. Graves wasn’t quite himself lately. Another casual drop of Tina’s name, and how she looked that day. How she looked at him; why the fuck did she still like him? He pushed her away for a reason. Many reasons. Fuck._

_Always more reminders of how he’d failed his community. His team._

_And then, his body smashed onto the carpeted floor, his eyes shutting at the blinding light that always took him a minute to adjust to. Silence. He could hear movement in the room, knew his captor was there, somewhere. Watching him. Figuring out how to break him next._

_He blinked, watching the white mess start to give way to color and shapes again. A tall, dark blur moved in front of him, dragging him to his feet with magic, and then, releasing him from its grip entirely. Percival nearly fell forward - his knees buckling at having to hold up his diminished weight – but managed to fall onto the nearby wall for support._

_A fresh aroma suddenly invaded his senses and his body reacted immediately, his stomach roaring alive as the smell of seared steak filled the room. It snuck its way through him, pinching at his dormant taste buds so viciously that it pained him to salivate; a function his body had forgotten existed._

_“Sit.” Grindelwald said softly from across the room, pointing to a small dinner table that had never been there before. At least, as far as he remembered. He would’ve remembered putting a fucking dining room table in his own office._

_Right?_

_Right. Don’t lose your mind Percival._

_Grindelwald looked himself, but wearing one of Percival’s many suits, the charcoal grey one with the short jacket. Just another suit he’d eventually have to burn, if he ever got out._

_Was it a trap? Was it all a sick game? There was no way he was just offering him food without a catch. There had to be a catch._

_Percival stumbled, slowly, more nervous than he cared to admit, watching Grindelwald take a seat, but not touching his food. His eyes were cool, his demeanor calm, but observant._

_It was impossible not to consider his escape options. He could run, but could he make it far enough before he was hit with some kind of spell? Probably not. The portkey was gone, so that option was null. He could always launch himself at his attacker, but with no usable hands, he’d have to-_

_“Percy,” he said softly, gesturing to the lonely chair. “I’m inviting you to sit with me. Would you be so kind? The food is getting cold and my patience is running short today.”_

_Deep breath. He took a seat at the hard chair, his eyes immediately going to the beef in front of him. A beautiful round cut of meat; perfectly charred on the outside and still sizzling, with the juices flowing down the sides and accumulating underneath. With a side of roasted potatoes, cut into squares and absorbing all the fats that came from the meat. His stomach growled again, louder than any other sound in the room._

_He settled into the chair, just as hard and uncomfortable as the bottom of that briefcase. Grindelwald picked up his silverware and started eating himself, as if this were all normal. Just a normal, quiet dinner at the Graves house. The man was insane. Completely, utterly, insane._

_Percival wanted to eat; needed to eat. But another part of him just wanted to sit back and negate the food that was offered. It would piss off Grindelwald to no end, certainly, but what else would it really achieve? He’d be weaker for it, physically. Closer to death. Was that really so bad? He’d let MACUSA down. Maybe he deserved it. People were dying because of his failures, while he sat there and had a steak. How could he?_

_It was simple. He couldn’t. He pushed the plate away with his forearm._

_Grindelwald stopped cutting into the steak and looked up, but without a hint of surprise or even anger. He swallowed what was left in his mouth and leaned back on the chair as Percival had done._

_No one spoke._

_Neither moved._

_Somewhere, far away, a clock chimed. Once. Twice. Ten times._

_“You really think dying will solve all your problems?”_

_Fuck. Sometimes he liked to forget that Grindelwald could read his mind._

_“What do you think Tina would feel, finding your withered corpse?” His voice had lowered, dripping of false concern. “Don’t you think she’d be crushed? Wouldn’t she prefer to see you alive?”_

_He tried not to imagine it. He tried to convince himself she wouldn’t care. That she’d see him as the failure he was; as he saw himself. That he was just another body from a failed mission, another casualty they so often saw as Aurors. But, he knew her far too well. Knew how concerned she always was when he even got a little injured. It was impossible not to picture her crying in despair and fuck, he wanted to hug her, to console her for something that hadn’t even happened yet. To tell her it wasn’t her fault._

_“Eat, Percy,” his captor coaxed. “Eat so you can see her again. So she can see you, alive. Don’t you want to see her?”_

_Yes, he thought, picturing that smile that could light up a room._

_“And you will. But you have to eat. If not for yourself, then for her.”_

_He swallowed hard, attempting to silence the ache in his chest that grew worse the more he thought of her, suffering. Grindelwald pushed the plate back in front of him._

_It was never a choice. He put his hand over the fork, grimacing in pain immediately as his fingers tried to wrap around the thin, metallic object that felt like ice against his burning bones. He had tried to stay as still as possible to help with the healing, but they weren’t anywhere near ready to be used, even as simply as this. No, he’d have to use his hands to eat._

_With his hand shaking, he floated it over the plate, attempting to pick up one of the sliced potatoes. If he couldn’t use his fork, he’d cut out of the middle man as much as possible._

_“No,” the voice seemed to come out of nowhere but its effect was immediate and he stopped as if a spell had been used. “You’re not a dog, Percy,” he continued, shaking his head slowly, disappointed. “What would Tina think if she saw that? Use your utensils, or don’t eat.”_

_Damn it to hell.  
_

_She’d probably think him a pathetic mess no matter what._

_He wanted to protest. He wanted to push that plate off the table._

_His stomach growled again._

_But he needed the food. It was right there. This was a game, but he didn’t know how to win it. If there was even a way to win it. He just knew how to survive it, and that would have to be enough._

_He put his hand over the fork again, biting down on his lip as the weary muscles struggled to wrap around the cold metal again. Something normally so easy, that he took for granted, now an impossible task. With the fork now loose in his hand, he moved to do the same with the knife but this time couldn’t help but let out a cry as his fingers closed around it. A quick glance at Grindelwald had him completely ignoring Percival, now halfway through his meal._

_Both hands shook, violently, as he pierced a potato. It was nearly to his mouth when it fell back on the plate. Percival took another deep breath. Weak. Useless. He couldn’t even eat like a proper human._

_He tried again, making it further but still failing. Both hands were on fire as he strengthened his grip, stabbing at his food with a grunt. He was shaking, but he made it that time, tasting hot food for the first time since Merlin knows when. At that moment, he didn’t know if it was the searing pain, the realization he had given in to his hunger, or the heavenly taste of cooked food, but his eyes watered. He took another bite, the welled-up tears in his eyes falling down his cheeks to his lips, reminding him of who he was and what he had been reduced to._

_“Good,” Grindelwald said softly, now watching him eat. “You’ve been good, Percy. Keep this up and we can have dinner like this again.”_

_Percival chuckled, nearly choking on his food._

_“So, I am a dog, then.” He muttered, trying to cut the meat. It was impossible to put much pressure without finding blinding pain staring back at him, so he sawed at the meat, slowly._

_“Quite the contrary. We are two men, with goals. I think we should make each other’s lives easier, don’t you think?”_

_“What else do you want? Haven’t you taken enough?”_

_The anger was palpable and he nearly dropped his fork. He could see the perfect red center as his knife continued to slice, making him drool like a fucking animal and he hated himself even more for it._

_“Don’t try to escape. If you can do that, I’ll return your life back to you as soon as I’m done here in America. It’s my promise to you.”_

_“As if I can trust you.”_

_Grindelwald suddenly looked up, brows furrowing in shock._

_“Have I lied to you yet?”_

_Percival paused, his mind searching for an answer; any answer. But he couldn’t find one. Grindelwald continued._

_“I told you that if you kept your mind open, there would be no more of the Cruciatus Curse. Hasn’t that been true?”_

_“Yes.” He growled, cutting the last fibers loose in a swift motion. The mix of triumph and relief that washed over him for the first time in weeks was immediate. He did not deserve it._

_“Right,” he said again. “Can we trust each other, then?”_

_“Yes.” Percival whispered again, now finally taking a bite out of the steak, the fats practically melting in his mouth and leaking out of the corner of his lips and fuck, he forgot how good meat was. This was food he could chew, food with texture and a mixture of flavors and spices and life. Orgasmic did not do his feelings justice._

_He did not deserve it. Not one second of it.  
_

_“Good. You’re a good partner, Percival.”_

_Partner. With him. What had he agreed to?_

_The words sunk into his stomach, unsettling it against the little food present._

_But he continued eating._

_Who was he becoming?_

\--

_Who are you?_

Percival awoke with a gasp, his body flinging itself at some imaginary attacker and meeting nothing but the frigid air.

His chest didn’t just hurt; it strained, as if his heart had been exhausted from pounding away all night.

It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare. The taste of meat in his mouth was not real. The shaking hands grasping sheets and hair were not broken. Just a nightmare. It was over.

Light was pouring in from between the curtains of a nearby window. He was as naked as the day he was born, save for the bedsheets still somehow caught around his waist. His eyes floated over to his sleeping partner, with her side of the sheets down by her knees and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

It was day. Bob hadn’t returned yet. The room… was beginning to blur? And spin?

He didn’t think it was possible, but his heart beat harder; a loud thud that broke through the peace and quiet of the room.

He tried to swallow but failed, finding a sour taste budding in his tongue followed by another sharp stab in his abdomen. _Oh no._

“Perce?”

She found his thigh; a cold, wet mess compared to the soothing warmth she provided. As usual, she was left to pick up his pieces. As usual, she was watching him crumble.

_No. Not again._

He stumbled out of bed, feeling the sharp jolt to his bad knee as his feet found discarded clothing and cigarette buds more frequently than it did carpet. Tina called out to him again, more awake from the sound of it, but not before he made his way across the hall and fell into the bathroom as that knee gave out on him. He stayed down, clutching the toilet with both hands as the ball in his throat expanded. But nothing happened. The stabbing pain, now radiating up his chest, did not let up, keeping his shaking body pressed to the porcelain, awaiting something that was clearly not coming.

“My name,” he gasped to himself as a month’s worth of embarrassment flashed in front of him; of begging for it all to end, one way or another. “My name is Percival Graves. My name is Percival Graves, and I am fine. I am fine. I… fuck.”

 _We’re partners, Percival_ , the voice – Grindelwald’s voice – reminded him.

A soft touch to his back. He flinched, hiding his face away.

“Percival?”

No. She was watching all of it; every pathetic moment. She couldn’t. He couldn’t let her.

“It’s nothing,” he breathed, barely loud enough. Her touch, something so soothing earlier, now seemed vile and repulsive and he needed it gone. “I’m fine.”

“But-”

“ _Please_. It was just a nightmare,” he managed, avoiding her eyes. Her warm hand did not withdraw. “I’m fine. _It’s nothing. Please_.”

It wasn’t nothing, and the words ached as much as his body did.

“Yeah,” Tina finally responded, the disappointment heavy in her voice. She still lingered against him, slow to retreat. “Alright.”

She didn’t even fight, or point out the obvious - that this was not normal. Why would she? He was already on his knees using a toilet seat as a pillow, there was no need to beat a dead hippogriff.

What a fool he had been, to think that he was getting better. That somehow, in the space of a few days he’d miraculously heal, that the nightmares would be a thing of the past. That Tina would never have to see him like this again.

And like the fool he was, he pushed her away. He didn’t even need to look at her to know he screwed up. While he couldn’t bear to see her concerned eyes at his weakness, he couldn’t help the pang of guilt at pushing her away again. Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.

“Tina,” he forced himself to call out, his heart pounding again, the fear coming not from Grindelwald’s smug face, but from something else entirely. “Don’t.”

_Don’t what? Don’t be upset because I’m losing my mind? Don’t pity me?_

_Don’t what, Percival?_

“Don’t go.”

His voice cracked. Fuck. He wasn’t ready for this.

She paused. He could tell from the corner of his eye that she’d stopped by the door before turning back. He _really_ wasn’t ready for this. There was no way he could bear to look at her; to see the gloom in her eyes as she realized she was dating a wreck. There was some rustling beside him as she took a seat on the floor by his side. Quiet. He could only imagine what was going through her mind as his racing heart overcame the stomach pain that had him there in the first place. Could he touch her? Would she still want him to, after seeing this?

He lowered a scarred hand, palming the cold tile floor for a moment before dragging it in her direction. It shook, like most of his body. Pathetic. She deserved someone better. She-

She picked his hand up, bringing it and the rest of his arm up around her as she squeezed him around the heat of her body. A tiny action, in the grand scheme of things, but enough to rip his chest open. _Fucking hell he was not going to cry._

“I’m sorry,” he said so softly even he could barely hear it, but his heart heard him just fine and it twisted in a knot that had his eyes stinging. “I just,” he found himself saying, the thoughts losing whatever filter he perfected over the years as he pressed his face into the cold object. “I wish that it would stop. That you wouldn’t have to see this.”

“It will,” she laid a kiss on his shoulder, still holding onto his arm. “It will.”

He crunched his eyes shut, trying to keep the hurt from escaping, but it was impossible. He bit his lip, pressing his face against the hard surface.

“What if it doesn’t?”

She shrugged. “Then I’ll be here,” she said, plainly. “On the bathroom floor,” she added that with a smile; that much he could tell without having to look. “Or wherever you need me to be. Really.”

“This doesn’t bother you?”

“What?”

“ _This_ ,” he emphasized but without pointing anywhere or making any gestures. “Me. Like this.”

“No,” she answered without a pause. “It’s just another scar. Like this one, or that one,” she traced the bumps and lines littered across his shoulder from years of service, but this time he did not flinch. “Some we can remove, some go away. Others never do. Some things may change. We adapt.”

“I _have_ changed,” he admitted, the words causing him more heartbreak than he anticipated. “I can’t even go on a mission anymore without having a damned panic attack.”

She was quiet, instead brushing her fingertips along the inside of his arm and bringing some degree of warmth back to his body. “I figured that’s what happened. That maybe watching Gorsky’s arm twist didn’t settle well with you.”

“And you didn’t say anything.”

“Maybe old Tina would have,” she said. “But now, well, I guess I’m more patient. With you, anyway. Not all change is bad, you know.”

“I fail to see anything good in this.”

Another kiss to his shoulder. “Really? Nothing good at all?”

A heavy sigh escaped him. If only she knew just how unfailingly kind and hell, _patient_ , she was being. Instead of fear leading him to a manic flight or fight response, it was her settling him down, opening the curtains and letting in the light.

Could he bear to look at her?

He had to.

“Is that my shirt?”

He didn’t know why he asked; who else would it belong to? She hadn’t bothered to button it up but it covered her chest up just fine, barely letting out any skin below the hollow of her neck. It looked about a million times better on her frame than on his; even without the tie. Another mental note – when buying the gallon of her perfume, he also had to buy a dozen more shirts solely for her to wear in the mornings.

“Do you want me to take it off?”

“Yes, and no,” he smiled back, finally picking his head up but still feeling some complaint from his stomach. The room, at least, had stopped spinning. “Beautiful either way.”

The effects and images of the nightmare were slowly slipping away the more he took her in, becoming just another unpleasant memory in the archives of his mind. It was an archive, that, until Tina, he believed would collect nothing _but_ shit memories until Grindelwald died, or he died, or an apocalypse destroyed the world. He was glad to be proven wrong.

“Do you want to talk about them?”

“The nightmares?”

“Yeah. Maybe it would help.”

“No,” he said quickly, trying to wipe Grindelwald from his mind where he had become all too prominent. “Not yet.”

She nodded, stroking up and down the forearm he’d gifted her. The soothing action had his breathing slowing, had his eyes drying, if only just a bit. A part of him wondered if he’d ever be ready to do that, before the other part of him gently reminded him he’d have to be, for Picquery and the case. The woman was bothering him, and now Tina, into getting him to submit the damn things for days. At some point he’d have to turn them over. If Picquery lost her patience, she could, technically, force it out of him. How much longer could he really delay it? Another day, if he’s lucky?

If they ever managed to get back home.

“Let me wash this away, before Bob gets back,” he finally said, looking over the tiny shower that made the stuff in New York seem spacious. “I’ll see you back in the room?”

“Shirt on or off?” She teased, pulling him back into reality.

He brushed his hand over the tensing muscle of her stomach, reveling in the notion that this was real, that the past night had very much been real, and it could continue to be. If she wanted it to be. He watched her eyes close as his hand traveled further up, brushing a tangled bit of her hair back behind her ear where it settled, as he’d been wanting to do for so long. Her cheeks, so warm and radiant against the palm of his hand, served to free him from the prison his mind often retreated to, if only for a moment.

Things weren’t fine. They weren’t alright. But they would be. There was room for a future, with her.

“On,” he finally teased back, brushing his thumb against her pursed lips and drawing a smile from her. “I’d like to be the one freeing you from it.”

There was that mischievous look again. They were highly trained Aurors in the middle of a deadly mission and they were still acting like a bunch of sexually frustrated teenagers, trying to squeeze into a broom closet at Ilvermorny for a few minutes of fun. How irresponsible and reckless and… fun.

She left, but not before pressing a firm kiss to his messy head of hair. _Fun._ And here he thought he wiped that word from MACUSA's dictionaries.

When he eventually limped back out to the cozy room some twenty odd minutes later, smelling of coconuts and whatever the hell else Lilly bought for Bob and the kids, he found that Tina had kept her word. She was sitting back against the headrest, pressing his wand into his jacket and watching as the bloodstains evaporated into the air.

Still wearing his shirt, as instructed.

“First my wand, now my shirt,” he sighed, walking over to the bed with only a towel around his waist. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to take my place, Ms. Goldstein.”

That was another sight he couldn’t keep his eyes off of. How she laid there, with her legs crossed as if trying to hide something he hadn’t already become intimately familiar with, wearing something that was far too large for her figure. But it was his, as was she. Even though he couldn’t outwardly express it to the world, he could to her. He crawled back into bed, caging her in between his limbs as he kissed his way up every delicious inch of her body, much to her delight.

“I don’t have the gloomy, cynical outlook to pull it off.”

“Yes,” he said, tasting the side of her neck and feeling her pulse accelerate at the light touch. “Took nearly forty years to craft that.”

“And only one night to take it down a peg,” she said, taking a deep breath and tangling her hand in his soaking locks. “Is that coconut oil?”

“I’m afraid so. It’s the only fragrance Mrs. Ogden buys, apparently.”

“Fancy,” she smiled, bringing both hands around his jaw as if encouraging him up. “You’ve shaved.”

“Do you object?”

She shook her head, taking his lips far more softly than he would’ve expected and removing any trace of a bad memory that may have been lingering there. He settled down into the warm embrace she provided, swimming in the glowing memories they were slowly starting to create with each other.

A bang. Not from their door, but a little farther. Loud enough to freeze them into place.

The front door opened, while Bob’s familiar voice filled the otherwise quiet space.

“Shouldn’t have stopped at twenty-three.” He remarked with a groan, feeling the warmth and happiness leave him before he even pushed away from the loving woman beneath him.

It was a flurry of clothes flying from the floor as they each picked up their respective pieces. To his disappointment, Tina was the one to take off the shirt and for a second he wanted her to keep it, knowing it would’ve been ridiculous, but adorable. She rushed into the bathroom, turning on the hot water before he even had time for another parting kiss.

Percival dressed as well as he could for their timeframe, sure that his shirt wasn’t completely tucked in, that his tie may have been crooked, and his shoes still sat in the potions lab. It wasn’t professional, but Bob out of all people would understand if he left his waistcoat and jacket behind for a moment. He could make out the sound of drawers opening and shutting just down the hall. He was probably making them breakfast. The man was far too kind; taking them in in the middle of his holiday with family, letting them stay overnight in his house, and now he was making them something. He really owed Bob a lot for all his help and understanding.

“Good morning,” Percival called out, doing his best to straighten up the swinging tie and look semi-presentable despite the obvious mess everywhere else. “How did it go?”

“Afternoon Percival,” Bob answered as he started on the coffee. His robes were a little tattered, with entire chunks of cloth missing in some parts but otherwise, he smiled up at Percival as if nothing was wrong. Pretending not to be injured in the face of colleagues was a trait that was far too common in their profession. Not mentioning them to the afflicted party was a part of the game. “We secured the restaurant and the cabinets for you and Ms. Goldstein. We can leave as soon as you’d like.”

“Afternoon? What time is it?”

“A little past noon, but no matter. It’s still morning in New York. You two will be back and no one will be the wiser.”

Fuck, they really overslept. It did explain at least why he didn’t feel completely useless as he had most mornings, even with the nightmare shaking him awake.

He sat down in front of their kitchen table, something cozy, like the rest of the house and otherwise plain if not for two round stains ingrained into the wood, one in front of Percival and the other across. That must’ve been where Bob and his wife had coffee every morning; a little bit of evidence of the daily life they carried out together over the years. He quickly moved to a chair that didn’t see any of the marks, figuring Bob would prefer taking his usual seat.

“How much trouble was it?”

“None at all,” he said with a shake of the head. He opened drawer after drawer, looking for something. “You two did quite a number on those crooks.”

“That was my doing, mostly,” he said, paying more attention to the soft sounds of the shower a few rooms away, and the wonderful person in there who did not have blood on her hands. “What was the damage?”

“Twelve injured, four dead. Crushed to death, you see. Awful. You could see every point where their bones had broken, when life left their eyes. Awful.”

If his ears weren’t mistaken – and they hardly were – Percival swore he heard pity in Bob’s voice. Pity. He could hardly blame him for the sentiment, as it wasn’t strange to him. Percival was charged with carrying out justice, and it was rarely pretty. Not that he would resort to violence immediately, no, he wasn’t a monster, but he was no stranger to the use of force. Those people had every chance to turn back and leave him and Tina alone. They didn’t have to jump on platforms after them, or into the kitchen, but they did, and he had to protect Tina – it was his sole duty that mission. Still, those men and women, after all, were still _people_. People with families, and homes; dreams and ambitions. People he brutally murdered because his anger and magic got out of control.

He shook the thought away. No, he did what had to be done. That was that. There was a time where he also would've shown pity, but, for some reason, he couldn't find it in him that time.

“Awful indeed.” Percival agreed, straightening up against the chair as Bob finally found the cups he’d been searching for. The cups, like the table, looked to have history too, as parts of the ceramic had chipped and stained in something that even magic hadn’t repaired.

Silence again. The shower continued running in the background.

Bob poured him a cup of coffee before taking a seat, not on one of the spots where Percival predicted belonged to him or his wife, but the only other empty one, right in front of him.

 _He’s just being polite_ , Percival thought as he took the hot cup into his hands, looking over the plump man in front of him with the easy smile and the calm eyes. It’d be awkward for Bob to sit next to him. This made more sense, for conversation.

“How many Aurors did you gather up?”

“Just six. The others were away.”

“On holiday?"

"On holiday."

"How are they doing?"

Percival looked at the living room behind Bob as he spoke, the one that he and Tina had used as something far more intimate. The coffee table was still reduced to pocket-size by the side, and one of the couches looked just a little too crooked from when he was trying to make room for them. Even the gramophone that lay forgotten, with a disc clearly still slotted in had not been mentioned once.

Percival’s eyes floated over to the clock hanging by the front door. There were three pointers, one for each of Bob’s family members, decidedly on the space marked ‘Safehouse’. Interesting. Bob was serious when he said he’d taken the time to move his family away from Edinburgh, where the pointers had been at the previous day. But, the space marked ‘Home’ was empty. Where was Bob’s pointer?

He froze. Mortal Peril.

A beat.

The man in front of him finished whatever it was he was talking about, his gaze heavy on Percival.

Reality washed over him like a cold shower, but he dared not move a muscle.

He needed his wand.

Percival adjusted his leg, slowly, but did not find the familiar feel of the long handle against his thigh. Instead, he felt nothing.

His wand was not there.

Where-

Tina. Tina had put his wand on top of his jacket. He left his jacket in the room.

How could he forget it? He couldn’t do magic without it. Not anymore.

A breath.

Another.

His coffee cup burned against his palm. He did not let go of it.

The soothing sound of the shower stopped.

Tina.

The impostor, sitting across from him, tapped his fingers against the polished wood; quickly, impatiently, the taps resembling the growing pounding against his chest. Percival did not react. Could not react. A reaction could mean death. A reaction could put Tina in danger.

_Breathe._

This was escapable. It was always escapable.

“Is something wrong with the coffee?”

“No,” he blurted out immediately, looking down at the steam that floated into the air and vanished. The sweet smell tempted him, but he made no move towards drinking it. “Do you have sugar? Cream?”

“You don't prefer it black?” Bob cocked his eyebrow at him.

He did take it black. _Black as your soul_ ; Picquery joked once. But he couldn’t remember a time he drank coffee with Bob. It was always tea. Whoever this was, they knew him.

"Not anymore," Percival shrugged, looking down at the mug. “People change.”

‘Bob’ looked away, frowning in annoyance. “People change.”

The man stood, looking toward the hall where Tina was far too vulnerable before going back to the kitchen.

The door to the bathroom opened, closed. The door to their bedroom opened, closed.

He needed to get to her.

Could he excuse himself?

Another breath. ‘Bob’ had turned his attention to refilling the sugar bowl.

He had to try.

He pushed the chair back as slowly as he could but still drawing a sound, trying to stand on just one leg but the replica turned in surprise, the calm eyes now darkening with suspicion. Percival shut his mind completely, shooting ‘Bob’ his best confused look.

“Forgot my jacket in the room.”

“Nonsense, I can get it for you; your leg is miserable still.”

_No!_

“That’s very kind of you, but I can get it.”

Before he could protest further, ‘Bob’ was behind him, shoving him back down onto the chair with vigor that could only have been enhanced by magic. His knee jerked against the leg of the table and he bit down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying out.

Percival could feel the magic budding at his fingertips as well, could hear the spells he needed to cast buzzing through his head, aching to be let out, but met with doubt.

What if he missed? What if the spell wasn’t strong enough to subdue the person standing inches from him? He only had one shot. If he made a mistake, even just a tiny one, he’d be writhing on the floor in pain while Tina was none the wiser, subject to an attack from whoever was there with him.

Was it even Grindelwald? Who was the masked stranger?

Focus. He needed alternatives.

Tina’s wand. She said she left it in the potions lab.

The same hands that pushed him down onto the chair stayed on his shoulders for far too long. Only one other person in his life had touched him that way; with that deliberate yet forceful hold that asserted control without putting too much pressure. He could feel his body reacting to the touch, the tendrils of fear flowing from that single point of contact down to his chest and stomach while seizing his throat. It was impossible to stop it from taking hold. Impossible to prevent the memory from coming back into the light. His body tensed in a way that this impersonator must have noticed, but did not react to in the slightest.

It was either part of the game, or…

It wasn’t Grindelwald.

He prayed for the latter.

“Good morning gentlemen.” Tina smiled from the hall, back in her office attire. None the wiser.

He immediately searched her body for any clues of his or her wand, but found no such silhouette along her legs or even her arms.

But at least she had working hands.

She was right there, the only hope he still had of subduing the maniac wearing Bob’s face, and he could not communicate a word of that to her. There must have been a way, non-verbally. Well, if she only read his mind, but damn it, she didn’t have her sister’s gift and for the first time he was upset that she wasn’t in his head. But, maybe…

It had to be subtle. He brushed a hand through his hair, tapping at his head in the process and hoping she got the hint to use Legilimency on him. It could be done wandlessly – he knew that all too well.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Goldstein. Did you sleep well?”

 _TINA! GET MY WAND!_ He thought as hard as he could, giving her the most piercing look he was capable of.

But no reaction. She kept walking towards them, asking the same question about what time it was, ‘Bob’ giving the same answer.

He did it again, catching her eye that time. _TINA! IT’S NOT BOB! GET MY WAND!_

She reached forward and… brushed a loose strand back, a smile on her face.

 _Fuck!_ He needed the use of his hands back. _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

“Tina,” he found himself saying, trying to keep the panic from spreading to his face. “Would you mind grabbing the rest of my things from the room?”

She was about to respond when the hands that had been resting on his shoulders fell, swiftly and suddenly, freeing him, and not just from its physical hold.

“We’ll get your things, Percival, just relax and have some coffee. Ms. Goldstein – you too, please have a seat.”

Tina, who had been about to turn back, stopped.

_No!_

“Are you alright, Per-Graves?”

He swallowed hard, realizing he must’ve been white as a ghost.

“Just the nightmare from earlier,” he reasoned, hoping the man behind him would fall for that. “Sometimes it takes a while for the effects to wear off.”

For a moment, he could see her eyes soften and pity take hold. But Tina had seen him through quite a few nightmares already to sense an exaggeration where there was one and quite quickly, he saw doubt spread through her face. _Yes, good_ , Percival thought, eyes fixed on hers as if in a silent plea for her to understand the situation they were in.

‘Bob’ had a milk jug float over to the table, next to a silver bowl of sugar so worn with age it should have crumbled in their hands. Another cup of coffee also made its way to Tina, who quickly picked it up. Percival had a sneaking suspicion that there was a reason that ‘Bob’ was so eager for them to drink up, and it was not for their well-being. No, whatever he had planned was far more sinister.

He wasn't looking at them; not directly. In a move that could only be described as indelicate, Percival nudged Tina under the table, a lot harder than he originally meant. He didn’t have to look to see she nearly spilled her coffee. She glared up at him quickly before setting the cup back down, her eyes filled with questions he couldn’t answer. Not directly, anyway.

“Bob,” he started, taking a tiny teaspoon of sugar, careful not to hold it in a way that would cause his hand to shake. ‘Bob’ had settled back onto his chair, not _appearing_ suspicious at least. “Tell me, how is Cecil doing? In school?”

“Wonderful, I’d say. Boy takes a lot after his old man.”

“Hopeless and pathetic, then?” Percival tried at a genuine smile, despite their circumstance.

He saw Tina go for a sip and he nudged her again. A little softer that time.

And she kicked him back!

But she put the cup down at least. _Mercy Lewis, woman._

“Well we can’t all be descendants from MACUSA’s Original Twelve, now can we?”

“It’s quite a burden to bear. Like Cecil will know, with his ‘old man’.”

“I suppose. I did have quite a talent in transfiguration; I’m sure his current Professor will expect far too much from the boy.”

“Transfiguration,” Percival repeated, drawing the syllables out as he looked over the man. He started pouring some of the milk onto his coffee, slowly, almost one drip at a time to keep his hand from trembling again. “I never would have guessed.”

‘Bob’ watched him pour the milk, continuing to tap his fingers impatiently against the table. He broke away from Percival’s gaze, settling on Tina instead.

“Ms. Goldstein? No coffee for you?”

“Oh, I’m just waiting on the milk.”

 _Atta girl_ , Percival thought with a knowing smile. Did she even take her coffee with milk? He couldn’t remember.

“What is Cecil, in his third year?”

“First. Boy can barely fly straight still, but I appreciate your confidence in him.”

Damn. Whoever had taken over Bob’s image knew that little detail. Now Tina was probably thinking he was going insane and kicking her for nothing. He stopped with the milk, noticing the coffee was closer to white than black. He needed to make his case to Tina sooner rather than later, or she would start fighting him, feisty as he still knew her to be. The fact that he was her boss never stopped her before, and now that they were entangled? Even less so.

“Do you think he will like flying?”

“I don’t see why not. Boy’s wild; loves to get away from Lilly and I.”

“Yes, I can see it from the pictures,” Percival gestured over to the hallway behind them. “He’ll probably make a good Quidditch player, what do you say?”

“Hah! Maybe a keeper if I’m lucky. Like his old man.”

“Or a chaser, like dear old uncle Percy.” Percival raised the coffee, as if making a toast.

“Quite right.” Bob nodded with a pleasant smile.

_Got you, you son of a bitch._

Tina did not say a word, but she did react. Even with his gaze away from her he could see her posture straighten, her body tense as she finally realized why he had been kicking her under the table. This was good. No stress. No panic. It was still two against one.

Whoever was sitting in front of them with Bob’s face was no friend, but it also was not Grindelwald. While it would’ve been acceptable for him to make a mistake on something relating to Bob’s life, Grindelwald would never forget a detail about Percival’s, no matter how mundane or inconsequential. The thought soothed him more than it should have and he found himself relaxing back against the chair, the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind. Now with Tina on his side, he could start to-

“Oh, shoot,” Tina suddenly gasped, pushing her chair back to stand. It screeched against the worn-out wood floor, taking both men out of their element. “I left the Exploding Potion in the cauldron.”

‘Bob’ did the same, backing his chair and dropping his hand to his thigh and now Percival was alert. His wand. He could take it. But he was too far away, sitting across from him with a bad knee.

It was too soon, it was unplanned, it was reckless. _Tina what the ever-living hell are you doing?_

“Bloody hell, woman, sit down!” 'Bob' yelled but Tina absolutely did not sit. Now he had his wand out under the table; Bob’s wand. “What the hell are you brewing that for anyway?”

Tina squeezed her hand around her coffee cup, her eyes falling to Percival’s panicked ones for a brief second. “As a distraction.”


	17. Fear Cuts Deeper than Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A villain is unmasked, a secret is revealed, and a very real warning is issued. Expect to see Dark!Graves make a brief but powerful appearance.
> 
> Also, get to meet the man who has been healing Percival's sorry ass since he became an Auror. More info on him at the bottom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a fluffy chapter, but it will make the pay-off oh so much better

Tina wasn’t sure what upset her more; that it took her that long to notice that the man in front of her was not, in fact, Bob Ogden, or that it took her even longer than that to notice that Percival’s cup of coffee had started to boil on its own. If she’d just taken a second longer, or heck, if she never noticed it then the two of them would be out cold and with possibly a limb or two missing while the impostor in front of them made out with their limp bodies.

In one single, sweeping movement, she had thrown the bubbling mugs that were certainly due to explode at any moment right at their attacker before throwing herself at a very confused Percival Graves.

The boom immediately pierced her ears. She could barely register the blistering heat and shock of the explosion at her back, not while she tumbled to the floor with her lover, trying to protect him as much as she could.

Everything rung. The scent of burnt wood and coffee beans filled her throat and had her gagging and coughing; fresh air a thing of the past.

“Tina!”

It was so far away, with the constant ringing that shook her head. Was it even her name she heard, or was that her imagination?

Something shuffled underneath her torso and now her nose collided with hardwood floor, the yelling only getting louder and more aggressive with each passing second. She managed to open her eyes, just enough to see a blur moving and swinging its arms wildly in all directions. Two blurs, now that she thought of it. And one of those blurs oddly resembled Percival. Percival on top of someone. Percival…

Percival!

She managed to push herself up enough to crawl to the man with his knee – she hoped it was the good knee - dug into the back of their thrashing enemy.

“Tina,” he said again, this time calmer even though the man beneath him nearly threw him off and swung an elbow hard enough to break his nose. “I need my wand.”

“Your wand.” Tina repeated, her mind grasping at the words but unable to connect it to anything.

The beginnings of a spell slashed from the man’s hand and Percival slammed it down onto the floor with a growl. “ _I need my wand_.”

 _Wand, Tina, a wand. Long, pointy stick, for magic – YOU OWN ONE_ , her mind reminded her and had her feet moving on their own, carrying her back to their room where the long, black object sat on the bed as if waiting for her.

“Petrificus Totalus.” Tina gasped at the attacker, who had been about to overthrow a visibly pissed Percival. The man’s limbs froze in place, becoming nothing more than a grotesque statue still pinned under Percival’s weight.

“Are you alright?” The words struggled out of his lips as he slipped off their attacker. He stood, one leg bent like a flamingo’s and clearly inconveniencing him more than the previous night.

“Are you?”

“I think it’s broken. Not just my knee anymore, maybe more,” he sighed, letting out a guttural growl the second he tried to put any pressure on it. “Yes, fractured, I think. _Fuck_.”

“Let me at least get you the balm.”

“No,” he interrupted, gesturing to Bob’s body. “This first.”

Tina nodded, hitting the visibly angered attacker with another spell, one that had become a favorite at MACUSA since Newt’s first use. The man shrunk in size, revealing a much slenderer body than Bob could ever hope for no matter how many criminals he literally chased after. The clothes, still shaped for a man Bob’s size, looked ridiculous against the smaller person and it was almost worthy of a laugh. The spell traveled up the neck and his hair darkened, becoming pitch black before lengthening considerably, his features softening. Until it was clear that this was no man.

Tina gasped, backing away from her former colleague. _Grindelwald told you to go home_ , she wanted to say.

Percival was not as subdued.

“ _I hired you_ ,” he hissed, the utter betrayal and disappointment in those simple words sending an ache through her chest. “I _trusted_ you.”

A snarl, this time not from Percival, cut through the room. The spell had Travers’ mouth glued shut and Tina considered leaving it so for both their sakes. There was nothing she could possibly say that would excuse her newfound allegiance. Percival, surprisingly, was taking this much harder than she predicted; his piercing stare something unlike anything she'd ever seen. They had known for almost a day that the petrified woman in front of them was nothing more than a turncoat, so it wasn’t a surprise to see her right there. But, somehow, looking a former friend and co-worker in the eyes; someone who had just tried capturing them in broad daylight, made it all very much _real_. This person, who shared a sandwich with Tina just a week past, who once ran drills with Percival, was so willing to cause them harm at the blink of an eye. Betrayal did not begin to cover it.

But, they had to know what she’d done to Bob. Tina shuddered at the thought of finding his body, of his family finding out. He had to be alive; he just had to.

“What did you do to Mr. Ogden?” Tina asked, her voice much louder than she expected. She reversed the curse she’d laid while replacing it with an incarcerous that bound every inch of her limbs until she was nothing more than a mummified mess on the floor.

Travers gasped, her entire face contorting as she struggled – and failed - to break from Tina’s spell. “Fuck you, Goldstein.”

She was about to raise the elegant wand that still did not belong to her when a calmer, yet rougher hand took her wrist. “Tina,” Percival said, his voice suddenly so deep that it shook her concentration away from the enemy. “My wand.”

It was a command that needn’t be barked or yelled. Tina thought back to what he did to Jauncey, to the rage and despair she’d seen in his eyes that day and that she searched for again - and to her dismay - found in his furrowed brow and clenched jaw.

“No,” Travers muttered, attempting to roll away from a stoic Percival. He walked - limped - with the swagger of a butcher wielding a blade, ready to slaughter a squealing pig, and that imagery was not lost on Travers. “Mr. Graves, please-”

“When we take you back to New York,” he started, using a tone she’d never heard before. A quick flick of the wand had her body lifting off the ground and at eye-level with him. “In chains and stripped of everything you hold _dear_ , do you know what will happen?”

“Director, _please_. This isn’t personal-”

“Can you imagine the relief in my face – this face,” he gestured with a roar, ignoring her pleas. “When I take you to that little room and forcibly remove all traces of who you are, and who you _think_ you are from your mind?”

“No-”

“Have you _seen_ what happens when you get sentenced to death? Have you?” He asked and now Tina found her throat a little parched. “Do you know what happens next?”

Tina jerked away, rubbing her hands together a little too hard.

Travers was now fighting back tears as she tried to avoid his eyes, but the spell kept her face right in front of his, nose to nose.

“I think you do. You are- _were_ , an Auror after all,” his voice lowered but the tone did not change. He towered over her, still without casting a single damaging spell but making sure his wand was visible to her at all times. “You’ve seen what happens when they sit you on that chair.”

Tina swallowed. Hard. She tried not to think about the panic at seeing this same man – _just his face_ , she reminded herself – send her there to die. Tried not to think about how close she was to it, how, if not for Newt and the Swooping Evil she’d be nothing but dust.

“You’re not meant to feel a thing, really,” he continued, grabbing a hold of her jaw and holding her eyes to his. “When the oil smells you there, a plump piece of meat for it to feed on. Ripe for the taking. You’re supposed to be so doped on your memories, but, that’s not true, you see.”

A strange chill washed over Tina. Unable to turn away, to shut her ears to Percival’s taunts or shield her mind from imagining what would’ve happened if she’d sat at that chair a little longer. If Pickett hadn’t been there…

His voice had dropped dangerously low and now Travers was whimpering so loudly it was becoming harder yet for Tina to hear, not that she wanted to, not that her body would let her escape it.

“When its tendrils seep out to take you, when their acid wraps around your arms and legs, you _feel it_. You feel it. Every. Single. Second. That acid melts into you. Eating through skin and muscle and _bone_.”

Tina’s back suddenly found the wall as her entire body weakened around her, the room around her fading away and the unmistakable chill of the death cells taking over. Suddenly it wasn’t Percival and Travers, but the two executioners, ready to watch her die, and the thought had her gasping for air that she knew to be right there, but just out of reach.

“But you can’t move. You can’t fight it. So, you stew there, for what feels like an eternity. Burning. Melting. _Dying_. And, unless you tell me everything I want to know, _right now_ , I will put you on that chair myself, Travers. And I will sit, and watch, for as long as it takes for it to Eat. You. Alive.”

“Stop,” Tina gasped, taking Percival out of his trance but having no effect on Travers’ nerves. “Percival, stop.”

The room melted into nothing, Percival’s face etched into her mind as she sunk further and further into the wall, until there was nothing but his frozen eyes, staring and sending her to her death once again.

\--

_There was a sharp slap against the blackboard and the hushed murmurs stopped._

_“I’m going to ask you again, Ms. Goldstein,” Professor MacDonald drawled, his eyes tiny behind the spectacles barely hanging on the tip of his nose, as if meaning to escape as they all wanted to. “What are the essential properties of the Sopophorous Bean?”_

_All eyes fell on a coughing, shaking Tina who couldn’t keep her eyes off the mess in her cauldron. William, who’d been prodding her with his quill to ask her to go to some MACUSA presentation or some other silliness had moved about a foot away and didn’t even offer a helping hand. She cleared her throat, trying desperately to recall what she had read the previous day._

_“It can remove someone’s memory?”_

_“Are you telling me, or asking me?”_

_“Telling, sir,” Tina said quickly. “It can remove someone’s memory.”_

_“And?”_

_And? Tina flipped imaginary pages in her mind. “It’s normally used in Sleeping Draughts.”_

_“Right you are. I see you’re not a complete loss to your House, Ms. Goldstein,” he said with a hint of frustration that she’d gotten the main things right. “But what have we just learned from the incident with your cauldron?”_

_Her face burned at the mention of the little accident, the red visible even beneath the soot and ashes covering her cheeks. And this was supposed to be the one subject she excelled in._

_“It doesn’t react well to a drop of ice cream, sir.”_

_“To dairy, Ms. Goldstein, but yes,” he asserted, walking over to her cauldron. “It is rather fortuitous that the potion diluted it, or it would’ve immediately blown the roof off this classroom. Make no mistake, this is a deadly combination.”_

_“Yes sir.”_

_“This is why I do not allow any outside food or drink into the potions lab. You’ve earned yourself a week’s detention.”_

_“But sir-”_

_“Do not test me Ms. Goldstein. I do hope, for your future employer’s sake, that you learn to follow instructions.”_

\--

Something pressed against the back of her neck. Soft, but firm and familiar. It pushed up to her scalp before spreading and pressing into the sensitive skin below and forcing a breath from her as she melted into the touch.

“Tina?” The owner of the hand whispered, continuing the gentle massage. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

She opened her eyes, tentatively, seeing not the cold unforgiving eyes of a madman, but the ones she’d grown so enamored with. Loving and kind, yet passionate and powerful when needed. He was sitting by her, his lower back pressed against her midsection and she realized they must have been on the couch. “Is this what you go through?”

“Panic attacks?” His eyes sunk briefly, barely noticeable, but to her it was clear as day. He dug his fingers through her hair with all the patience in the world, drawing another breath from her. “First time it hit me, I was in my office. Thank Merlin the door was locked.”

“But you never pass out.”

“Not anymore, but I did, the first time.”

Light flooded in suddenly; the front door opened and Tina nearly pulled Percival’s own wand from his pocket in a panic. “How’s she doing?” The other familiar voice boomed from the entrance.

 _Bob._ Alive and well, and not the broken or dead man she was terrified they’d find. A quick glimpse at the clock across from her showed his pointer in the 'Home' position.

“She’ll be alright,” Percival said, his fingers still working their magic through her hair and not shying away from what they were doing at all. He’d emphasized secrecy so much and now didn’t seem to give a damn anymore. “Is it time?”

He stepped into view, clothed in an oversized brown suit that looked like it belonged to the last century, with its wide blue tie and even a top hat. He threw a box to Percival before giving her a quick nod. “The Aurors are outside, but I can tell them to wait another five minutes. We won't be moving the cabinets for another half hour anyway.”

“Make it ten,” Percival said, giving her neck a gentle squeeze that Bob could probably not see. “Thanks.”

It was only once he left that she looked down at what he’d given them. A small box, bright blue with gold trimmings that shone under the light, proudly proclaiming _Chocolate Frog_.  It rattled a bit, but smelled heavenly.

“It’s chocolate. It helps.”

“I thought that was for Dementor attacks.”

He shrugged, a thin smile forming on his lips. “I find chocolate helps you recover from _anything_ unpleasant.”

She pushed herself up, a little disappointed at losing his hand in the process but quickly finding it again on her thigh, as if he was completely incapable of keeping his hands off her. Not that she could take her eyes off the polished, loving man beside her anyway.

The second he tore open the box, a flash of brown hopped out and Percival was barely able to catch it in the air, inches from freedom. “ _This_ is how they eat chocolate?”

“You should see their version of jelly beans,” he muttered, breaking off a piece and handing it to her. For looking and feeling like something organic, the milky taste could have fooled her. “Everything’s a little topsy turvy around here.”

She paused, resting against the firm shoulder that seemed to yield the second she pressed against it. “I wish we had more time here.”

“After this is over, we can come back. We _will_ come back,” he said, leaning into her. “Bob will be thrilled.”

“Especially after we re-decorated his living room and made love in his guest room,” she said, taking in a breath and smiling at the coconut scent that did not fit him one bit. She was worried he'd correct her terminology - that it was _just_ sex - or shy away from it, but he did nothing of the sort. “I’m glad you got him back.”

“ _We_ did,” he emphasized. “She’d been hiding him in a case he kept, for his glasses.”

Tina grimaced, knowing he probably did not enjoy seeing his friend confined in a similar way he had been. “Where is she now?”

There was a moment where she was a little scared of what he’d done to her; not that she was innocent. Earlier that week he’d done enough with Jauncey and if he had any hope of looking sane in that trial; _that hearing_ , he needed to stop beating his prisoners.

To her surprise, he pulled out a little rectangular case, meant for glasses, out of his jacket pocket before sticking it back in with a tap. Brilliant. “What else did she spill?”

“More than what I expected, honestly,” he paused, taking some more of the chocolate frog that at least had stopped moving. “Kept telling me it wasn’t personal. Like hell it isn’t. About how it’s all _for the greater good_ , how he wants to help us."

Tina scoffed. _Not personal. It felt very damn personal._

"She waited until after Bob's Aurors finished securing the place, until he was heading home alone to take us. They arrested twelve of those fanatics in the kitchens. They were all American, so, naturally they already sent them all to MACUSA through the cabinets - which they are moving as soon as we leave."

"Meaning Grindelwald won't be able to come through anymore?"

"That's the idea. I'm going to hold onto Ms. Travers for now," he said, patting his pocket. He must've sensed her shock and continued. "Bob thinks it's a bad idea to reveal we know about Travers. That it will make the current turncoats zip up and impossible to track. I don't think he's wrong."

"But you don't know if he's right."

"Not yet. That remains to be seen. We'll need to keep an eye on Dawlish when we get back," he said, turning to her, his expression changing to something more solemn in the blink of an eye. "I can brief you on the rest on our way back. How are you doing?”

Worry. Fear. They plagued his eyes the previous day and made a reappearance right there in his voice, weighing him down like an anchor. “Better,” she savored the chocolate on her lips and the warm hand snaking its way around her to draw attention away from the memory. “I wasn’t expecting it to hit me that hard.”

“We never do. But, what I did- _said_ around you was uncouth, at best.”

“But it worked. You got Bob back, you got vital details from her.”

“While losing you in the process."

“I'm alright, love,” she said, knowing it would pull him out of whatever downward spiral he was heading towards. “We both have our demons, but, we’ll fight them. Together.”

“I know,” he affirmed. “But, Tina, I,” he started but stopped, as if forgetting the next words. “You were scared of me. Terrified.”

She froze at his words, her whole body tensing at the idea of trying to explain the way she looked at him before she fainted, and worse, realizing there was no kind way of explaining what Grindelwald did that day; the peace of mind he tore from her.

There weren’t many – perhaps any – words she could use to convince him. But she could show him. Putting her arms around his tense shoulders, she kissed him, softly, as if they had all the time in the world. As if it were the first time again. And, just like the first time, he hesitated. “You’re not a monster.”

"Then why-"

"For the same reason you pulled away from me this morning; I panicked," she breathed, holding onto him, trying to absorb whatever fear and doubts plagued his heart. "But, I'm not scared of the ice-skating, firewhisky-loving, overly protective Quidditch beater in front of me," that much at least lightened his eyes up a bit. "Quite the opposite."

It wasn't immediate, but he did relax against her again. Grindelwald, as terrifying as he had been using Percival's mask, was not the compassionate man caressing her neck, or the playful one sitting on a couch eating chocolate frogs. While her response may not have been the best answer, she meant every word of it. And as he started to take more control of their kiss, she hoped he had started to realize it too. That no matter what Grindelwald made him believe while he was imprisoned, he was still the good, passionate man she had known from day one.

There was just a hint of chocolate on his lips and it dawned on her that she’d never known he enjoyed those kinds of sweets. The man took his coffee black for Merlin’s sake, so to see him nearly tearing into that box with her was a reminder they still had so much to learn about each other. She parted her lips for him, nearly forgetting her own name when he pressed that hot tongue against hers, dominating but gentle at the same time. A journey to discovering Percival Graves; now that was something she could look forward to.

There was sound, somewhere to her right, and Tina could barely register the door had opened again but that time, they didn’t back away from each other. “Perc-ah, _oh my_ , another five minutes then.”

It was hard not to laugh. Separating was downright impossible. “We can make it.”

He chuckled, low and husky before reclaiming her lips. “Thunderbirds and quickies, I swear,” he sighed and now she was wondering what the heck he meant by that. “ _Patience_ , love. Tonight. Let's get home first.”

“Fine,” she grazed her teeth over his lower lip. “Tonight.”

Patience.

\--

The ache in his leg was much, much worse than he’d let Tina or the other Aurors believe. Each step had him staring into the beyond for a brief second or two, almost destroying his grip on reality. He didn’t even get to appreciate the cold winter air that hardened his cheeks or the distant sound of cars and people and _life_ in the busy New York streets before Tina apparated them to MACUSA’s infirmary, a place that breathed the opposite. But he wouldn’t have consented to it if it wasn’t serious; he just hoped she hadn’t noticed how worried he actually was as he stumbled and sent her off to see her sister.

“I’d like to see Jacobs. Alow Jacobs,” he muttered to the Healer behind the front desk. She lifted her eyes above the small, pink-rimmed glasses, with not a care or rush in the world. “ _Please_.”

“Mr. Jacobs is a lil’ busy right now, sir.”

No sympathy. She lowered her eyes back to her issue of Witches Weekly, where she lazily flipped a colorful page full of moving barettes.

“I can wait.”

She looked back at him, annoyed that he dared interrupt her reading time. “He’s treatin’ a sexually transmitted curse. Will be a while.”

Ouch. He’d been there, once, before he was even Chief Auror. Ward C.

He stretched the length of his wand to resemble a walking stick, limping his way down the halls. Each Healer looked him up and down with curiosity before turning their attention back to their work. The crisp, silent halls of the infirmary normally weren’t that full, but the twelve fanatics that Bob’s team had caught in The Silent Owl were all injured and entitled to medical care before being released to jail. Now _that_ was a joke.

He was barely in that part of the hospital wing when he heard a familiar dismayed yell with a heavy southern accent attached to it.

“Damn it, Sam, what’d I tell you ‘bout two-timing women?”

“S-Sorry, Alow, it’s just-Ah!”

Jacobs pressed something into Sam’s crotch, prompting nothing more than a startled cry for reprieve. Percival knew better than to look down and instead met his eyes with a nod.

“Mr. G-Graves?” The man stuttered, his head dripping with sweat and oozing fear our of every orifice.

Percival had seen him before; an Obliviator, and one with nary a good taste in women if his current predicament was anything to go by. Not that he was perfect, but, he’d never pissed off a woman enough to have her curse his privates into... whatever it was that happened. He still had not looked.

“I don’t judge, Sam,” he sighed, looking to his old friend. “Jacobs. I think it happened.”

The old man, with head and chin so full of white hair it obscured any other features, didn’t bother looking up at him. “Where?”

“Knee. Maybe lower leg.”

“Ah, fuck. Wait in my office, I’ll be there in ten.”

He nodded his sympathy to Sam before leaving. Whether the man deserved it or not, the metal brace Jacobs was putting on him was far worse than almost anything he could’ve done.

And so, like the patient man he was, Percival limped over to the cramped office, devoid of any distinguishing characteristics or signs that it belonged to anyone with even a slight personality. The desk harbored enough paperwork to make Percival look efficient; no small feat after Grindelwald. He took a seat on the fancy armchair and just closed his eyes, hoping that this could be fixed. That he didn’t screw it up completely.

But, he had a feeling he did.

“You look like shit, son,” Jacobs sighed as he opened the door, throwing a pair of gloves onto the desk. They flopped around like fish out of water before calming against the wall. Whatever the hell Sam had been cursed with was _far_ too cruel. “You used your hands again?”

Jacobs did not keep his tone of voice steady, he did not bullshit, and his bedside manner was often described as ranging from insensitive to nonexistent. Naturally, in the few times that Percival required medical attention, Jacobs was the one to get the call.

“By accident. Left hand.”

He thought a moment, examining the scarred pattern over his hand like he had the same night Percival was brought in by Tina. “Merlin, can you at least _act_ like you want to see your next birthday?”

“I stopped counting in ’18 anyway.”

“Well, God didn’t,” he huffed, pulling a white hair from the top of Percival’s head, leaving only the usual storm of brown. _God_ ; Percival wanted to laugh. What kind of righteous God would reward his years of service with a host such as Grindelwald. “Pants off. Let’s see that knee.”

Jacobs only needed a quick flick of his finger for Percival’s pants to drop down to his ankles, the belt rustling around his feet. Most men would feel nervous at this stage, or would at least try to cover themselves up, but the Chief Healer in front of him had, unfortunately, seen him naked more times than any woman.

“How bad is it?”

“You’re fucked, my friend,” he said, wrapping his hand around the swollen area and drawing a surprised grunt from Percival. “Looks like a sprain, but it ain't. It’s broken, and it’s spreading to your Tibia. It already started to crack, right _here_.”

He pressed down below his knee and the shock was so _immense_ , so utterly like what he’d felt in his hands, that before Percival could stop himself he found his fist solidly encrusted in the old man’s chin, drawing a surprised cry from both.

“I’m not apologizing for that.” Percival breathed, shaking the hit off his knuckles.

“Neither am I,” Jacobs stepped back more out of necessity than fear. "I'm afraid your suspicion is correct, though. This wasn't fractured on impact. It broke from within; by itself."

"Are you sure?"

Jacobs narrowed his eyes at him, hating having his knowledge questioned. “The curse you took from Ms. Goldstein does not enjoy being constrained to your hands, like we’d hoped.”

“So it went to my knee instead?”

“Something like that. I can heal it, like any broken bone, but it will break again. And again. You may as well buy a lifetime supply of healing potions.”

“How long? Until it breaks again?”

Jacobs averted his eyes. Not an encouraging sign from any Healer, particularly him. “A day. Maybe a little more before it happens. I really can’t say because we’ve never had something like this before. Two separate curses interacting in one body? It’s not exactly taught in school.”

“Which is why I’ve always come to you,” Percival said, feeling the last bits of hope slip through his fingers. “You’ve pulled off miracles with me before.”

“Those were different cases,” he reasoned. “I managed to get your curse – Grindelwald’s curse, rather – to confine Jauncey’s crap to your hands, but the second you use your magic like that, it overloaded you and let some of it out. This bit hit your knee. If it hits something vital, or gets out of control, then we’ll be planning your funeral.”

The good Healer stepped back, unable or unwilling – it was hard to tell – to hide the worry that weighed on his brows.

The message was all too clear. Wandless magic wasn't even a backup anymore.

“You still smoke?”

“If you’re offering,” Jacobs perked up a bit like the smoker they both knew he was yet he pretended not to be. “It’s not good for you.”

“This job isn’t good for me.”

“Yet here you are,” he said, summoning a flask of bone-healing potion from the seemingly endless cabinet above his desk. Unlike the generic ones he’d seen Tina use, this was slender and white and surely made to mimic a human femur. “Working, smoking. Drinking. Fucking?”

“Mostly drinking.” Percival said, avoiding the last option and pulling out the near-empty pack of cigarettes from the inner pocket of his jacket; most of its contents gone after the previous night with Tina. Just another item to add to the rapidly growing list of things to buy if he ever found the time.

“Take this first. It’s a faster acting potion than the usual swig, but the side effects are a bit iffy. Consider it a favor.”

Percival took it all in one shot, fighting the urge to cough it all out when his tongue felt the presence of something rotted. “Side effects?”

“You’ll lose vision in one of your eyes for a bit.”

Percival blinked, half his field of view nearly disappearing at once. “Yeah, right eye.”

“And your cock will be limp for a few hours.”

Percival frowned in disbelief, wondering if he’d heard that right. “You’re kidding.”

“Not at all,” he scoffed, pinching the tip of both their cigarettes until a soft flame erupted. “It’s not like you’re using it anyway.”

It was almost worth a laugh. Maybe there was a God; one with a sick sense of humor.

“Jacobs, I’m hurt,” he said as monotone as possible, savoring the bitter taste against his tongue as he felt the fractured bones stitch themselves together already. “Is that my reputation around here?”

“Well am I wrong?”

Percival closed his eyes, taking a long drag and picturing Tina’s features as she came undone under his touch. The way she bit down on her bottom lip, how her fingers twisted in his hair and dug into muscle in pure ecstasy. _Tonight._

“No,” he responded, simply, looking back to his curious friend. A worthless lie, told more to protect Tina’s virtue than to fool the old man in front of him. “Still, entertain me. How many hours?”

Jacobs gave him the same look he’d expected from a proud grandfather after admitting to all the exploits from his youth. Or maybe that was just his own grandfather. “I was kidding.”

Now _that_ was worth a laugh. Caught in a fucking trap. “Fuck you, Jay.”

“What? I figured if you were risking your life for the girl, it probably meant-”

“Enough.”

“A little action is good for the soul is all-”

“ _Jacobs_.”

“ _Percival_ ,” he retorted, blowing smoke up into the ceiling where it pooled and spread into the shape of a majestic bird; a mix between an eagle and a phoenix. “I do have to ask, as a friend, kind of, well-”

_Was it worth it? Is she worth it?_

“Yes,” he said, punctuating the answer clearly. “The answer is yes.”

“Did you tell her ‘bout what you did?”

Percival hummed, low, deep, and yet impatient all the same. If Tina knew that he had Jacobs transfer her curse to him after everything else failed to completely reverse it, she would lose her mind. She was already worried enough with his hands, and his nightmares and the troubling and degrading state of his mind – to name a few. There was no way he could add something else to that ever-growing list of problems. Worse yet, the last thing he wanted was for her to feel any guilt in getting hit in the first place. The curse was meant for him anyway, or so he reasoned.

“Not yet. Don’t say a word of it.”

“Another secret,” Jacobs noted. “You owe me, you know. Madam President would give me a house in the Hamptons for all of this.”

“Good thing I already got you one then.”

Jacobs crushed the rest of the cigarette in his fingers, where it fell to the floor as mere dust and leaving no evidence of their vice.

His own cigarette sat comfortably between his fingers, warming the scars that laced the damaged skin. He knew the spell to do the same. Could feel the magic prickling against his fingertips, aching to singe the diminished stub. But, not yet. Maybe not ever again.

“In your line of work, so far,” Percival started, handing him what was left of his cigarette for him to do the same. “Have you ever seen a no-maj solution cure something?”

“Something magical?”

Percival nodded, thinking back to the miracle balm that Tina carried and the wonderful hands that accompanied it. The only thing they'd tried that completely removed his pain. If they could somehow harvest whatever it was that healed him, maybe, _just maybe_ -

“Never. If something can be cured by whatever crap they have, then we already have the magic for it.”

He released the air trapped in his lungs, trying not to let the hopeless feeling dig its teeth back in. Jacobs was rarely full of shit, and he never lied. If it wasn’t the balm that took away the pain, then there was only one logical choice left – her.

But _how_?

A buzz. Barely noticeable at first, but eventually had the attention of both men. It wasn’t coming from just anywhere either, it vibrated against his ankle and foot with fierce determination to break through. He pulled his pants up, feeling nothing around the troubled knee for the first time that day.

“Speaking of the devil.” He sighed, pulling out the warming, buzzing Dragot out of the pocket.

_My office._

It was only a matter of time.

“What do I owe you, Jay?”

Jacobs took the gloves back from the desk, now no longer moving on their own. “You want to repay me? Don’t end up here again,” he sighed before leaving. “Go on vacation, get a nice, cozy apartment – I know you can afford it - and do yourself a favor and marry the woman before she realizes her mistake.”

_Hmph. Ridiculous._

Percival Graves did not take vacations.

\--

Protocol.

Seraphina Picquery’s favorite go-to, the one that Percival kept high in his list of vocabulary words to fall back on when instructing his team, and the one that made every Auror worth their salt cringe.

They were there to do their job, to protect the people and uphold the laws they all swore to protect, but not blindly. At the end of the day, they were all a single unit, one that wouldn’t tolerate vigilantes and acts of bravado. It’s why they had structure and ranks, it’s why Tina was demoted the second she stepped out of line; when she acted out against the unit and disobeyed direct orders. Because despite all the problems in the world, despite all the criminals that dared try to tear them down, they had order.

They followed protocol.

Up until Grindelwald, it was all Percival did. He followed his superior, he expected excellence and obedience from his subordinates, and he enforced the law. But, as Tina had suggested earlier that very same day, people changed.

“ _When_ , exactly, were you planning on telling me this?” She threw the paper down between them, the headline boldly telling the entire world about the ‘ _MACUSA Raid on The Silent Owl – Is Your Shop Next?_ ’

“It was not a raid.” Percival said quietly, trying not to look at the picture of chaos that took up nearly the whole front page.

“I don’t care what it was,” she said, unable to hide her distaste any further. “You stepped out of this office – _off this country_ – with another Auror-”

“My Assistant Director.” He corrected, his tone angrier than he expected but Picquery did not even notice; did not even care.

“-Without informing me and leaving me to find out the same way everyone else did. You’re my right-hand man, Percy and you disappeared. For twelve hours, you took this case into your own hands, you caused a commotion that took me out of bed, unprepared and _made me look like a Goddamn fool._ ”

It was almost enough to make him flinch, but he clamped down against the uncomfortable chair and squared his shoulders as much as he could. Years of Auror training taught him to stay cool against a heated attacker, that the best way to diffuse an argument was to stand down. And stand down, he would. “I’m sorry. It was not my intention.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what your intention was. This is why we have protocol - the same one - I might add, that your ancestors helped establish and that you took the reins on.”

“And sometimes, in cases of emergency, we suspend it,” he said, thinking back to the Great War. “We’ve done it before, ‘Phina.”

She stopped, briefly, at the use of her nickname. A nickname he’d coined for her when they were still back in school, pretending they knew anything about how the world worked.

“It was a war, _Percy_.”

His term of endearment was not returned. “And so is this.”

“No, oh no,” she corrected. “This is you, with a vendetta.”

“Against the man that would’ve happily killed _you_ to get what he wanted,” Percival raised his voice to make a point. “Who killed an innocent boy, who nearly murdered Ms. Goldstein and Mr. Scamander, and yes, who captured _me_. It’s not a war, but it is what he wants. It is what we’re trying to prevent.”

“Don’t you think I want him jailed? Do you honestly think I enjoy having his ugly mug plastered all over the paper?” She crossed her fingers and Percival twitched, knowing all too well what that meant. “Breaking all procedures is not the way to do it.”

“Are you going to fire me?”

She was about to say something else but stopped, the simple question taking the air out of her lungs. When she dared look at him again, the fire was gone, replaced with something he may have hated more than anything else: pity.

He clenched his hand around the seat, his skin surely turning white. “Are you going to fire me?” He repeated, more a dare than a question.

She stood, turning her back to him in more than just the physical sense. The answer to his question hung in limbo, a resounding yes and a troubled no all the same as she paced around the small, brightly lit office.

“What happened to us, ‘Val?” Picquery suddenly asked, using a frustrated tone of voice he hadn’t heard since before Grindelwald and a nickname he hadn’t heard since he was promoted to director.

“Gellert Grindelwald happened.” He sighed.

“He certainly didn’t improve things,” she noted. “But we both know this didn’t start with him.”

It didn’t. It started the day that she decided to meddle in his department and forcibly remove Tina from his team without consulting him, without any discussion or fair trial.

It was a Monday. A late night in the middle of the scorching summer that had him rolling his sleeves as he looked down at the Auror in front of him. Dried tears on her cheek, her hat pulled down far too hard in a feeble attempt to hide herself from the world and what she’d done. Eyes lowered but not out of fear or disrespect, this much he knew, but embarrassment. He’d resigned himself to only suspend her from the force for a month without pay, but, that was before Picquery caught wind of the incident. She stormed into his office, all decorum out the window as she called for Tina’s head.

It wasn’t unreasonable, but Percival knew the incident wasn’t done out of stupidity or malicious intent. But Picquery didn’t care. He calmed her down enough to ‘only’ settle on a demotion, but by then the damage was done. Tina shuffled out of his office for the last time that night, inconsolable and crushed. A reminder of what their President could do that he could not undo. A reminder that, no matter how friendly they’d been in the past, she still wielded power over him. Power that she was not afraid to use.

 “I’m still here to protect you and the others, ‘Phina,” he said, changing the subject. “That hasn’t changed.”

“But your blatant disregard for our procedures have?”

“No,” _yes_ , he thought quickly. “One incident does not constitute a pattern.”

“Then where are your memories?” She asked, her tone still gentle, somehow. “I still don’t know anything about your time with Grindelwald. You know it’s-”

“Necessary for the case,” He drawled, taking a breath. “It isn’t easy.”

“We didn’t sign up for this job because it’d be easy.” She said, quoting one of his favorite lines to his Aurors.

“We did it because we want to do right by our community,” he finished, quoting nearly every member of his family, his mentor, and anyone he ever dared to look up to. Something that even Tina had reminded him of on the day that he watched her job be stripped from her. “I did plan to write you a report when we returned. Before everything went awry.”

“Before you killed three men in a bathroom and dragged our names through the mud.”

Something he was trying to forget. “In self-defense.”

She took the paper, opening it to more pictures of the chaos in the supposedly closed restaurant. Her finger rested on one of the smiling pictures of a young, polished man that could’ve been any Auror on their team, which could’ve been _him_ so many years ago.

“Tiberius James. Recent Ilvermorny graduate. Horned Serpent. He was in there with his father; I’m sure you’re familiar with the man since you’ve arrested him before,” she paused, letting Percival recollect the sour memories of Cristoph James and his smuggling ring at the docks. “He was found in the bathroom, unarmed. Crushed by the collapsed ceiling.”

 _Impossible_ , he thought, his mind flying back to the short time in the bathroom, to the faces, to the flying spells. The first man to attack him – the one who nearly killed him – shot a spell at him. The one he threw a sink at also tried to hit him with a pathetic excuse of an Expulso that missed. But… there was someone else with him. Someone that had been there when he brought the roof down. Was that who she meant? Had he really, killed an innocent with his own hands like some kind of monster?

 _No_ , he cringed, twisting in his seat as the smiling face looked up at him. _No, no, no_. He couldn’t have. The paper was misreporting; there was no way the kid didn’t have a wand. What was he doing in that restaurant anyway? A hiding spot for criminals of all places, and-

 _There’s no such thing as guilty by association_ , he reminded himself, his blood thickening in his veins.

“I had been bound, fired at, and hit until my eye was swollen shut,” he reasoned. “I fought back how I could.”

“By resorting to violence and not containment?”

“Ms. Goldstein was undercover; stopping for arrests posed far too great a risk. I couldn’t risk her safety.”

“Couldn’t, or wouldn’t?”

He opened his mouth to speak but stopped, the weight of her question suddenly dawning on him.

Did she _know_?

_How?_

“My goal was to oversee her safety,” he said, taking his time with each word while his mind worked through what she could and could not have known. “I did what I had to. Not all of our decisions are easy.”

“No, they are not,” she said quickly. “I hope you can sleep with yours.”

“And you, with yours.”

A thin smile formed across her lips, something not quite right about it. Something that made his stomach turn. “And what decision is that?”

“Am I fired, or not?”

The smile faded. “I suppose it would be bad press to fire the man who helped arrest twelve Grindelwald fanatics.”

“It wouldn’t look good on the paper,” he said, taking a minute to look down at the flashing headlines still in front of him. “People would question it.”

“Your hearing’s in two days, ‘Val,” she sighed, avoiding the subtle hint he’d dropped. “I want to be on your side, I do. But-”

“You need me to behave.”

“To be yourself,” she waved the door open. Himself? What did that even mean anymore? “I want a transcript of those memories. Do not give me a reason to call you back here before then.”

“Yes Madam President.” He locked eyes with her, waiting to see how she’d react to the formal recognition, to the loss of warmth.

But she didn’t even budge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alow Jacobs is my take on an older Bones from Star Trek. Tells it like it is and dedicated to the 'captain' all the same. I've been wanting to bring him up since Chapter 1 but the right moment just never came up. Better late than never I suppose!


	18. The Home at the Berkshires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival deals with his inner demons, Tina comes into her new role. A new trap is laid out... and not just by them.
> 
> Note: Third scene is not told from Percival or Tina's POV. I don't like adding a sudden POV this late in the game, but it was necessary (and the only one for the rest of the story, at least as I foresee it).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is SUPER late and I sincerely apologize for the delay. I had a major work deadline today that I had to stop and dedicate almost 100% to in the last two weeks, but now I will have a lot more free time! 
> 
> Quick refresher, since it HAS been a while - last time we found out Percival had taken Tina's debilitating curse for himself, him and Picquery are not on best terms, and Percival currently has Travers locked up in a tiny case inside his pocket. They are back in MACUSA and time is running out.
> 
> As usual, thanks for the continued support - I do have the next chapter 50% done so that will come much faster (in less than a week I promise!).

It would be so _easy_ to get away with it.

There was that muffled plea again. Annoying, grating and _infuriating_.

He shifted in his transfigured chair, against the transfigured desk that had been nothing more than a handkerchief and a piece of parchment mere moments ago. Both wooden and rickety and not adequate works of transfiguration at all.

He took another breath, but his heart did not calm. Neither did his anger.

No one would know. Picquery. MACUSA. The papers. Even Tina.

There was so much he was already hiding from her. To add just one drop into an already full glass and pray that the little addition didn’t cause a spill. Could he hide just one more thing?

Tiberius James. The Ilvermorny boy from his house with his whole life ahead of him. His winning smile – still pure and untwisted as the world often made it - continued to stare up at him from the copy of The New York Ghost he’d taken from Nell’s desk. He’d started reading it but the casual combination of his name and the word ‘murderer’ stopped him in his tracks and he nearly threw the blasted thing into the hungry depths in front of him.

Tina’s words, strong and unyielding - as he had once been in a distant memory - echoed in his head.

_You’re not a monster._

“Director, _please_. There’s nothing more I can tell you.”

The words pained his ears.

But, no, it wasn’t the actual words. It was the pathetic _voice_ , now hoarse from all the begging and screaming, and its owner were what had him seeing red. And he hadn’t even done anything to the girl. All he’d done was take her to the death cells and strap her to the chair, and watched as she ever so slowly lost her composure over the passing hours. They always lost it eventually.

Interrogations didn’t always need brutality; that was the twisted beauty of it. Sometimes, all they needed was a tiny bit of _patience_.

To think of how he’d been there, training her in wandless magic into the odd hours of the night. How they’d shared bitter, cold coffee in stakeouts in the dead of winter. And now, she was sitting in front of him, bound. A criminal. A traitor.

Someone he once _trusted_.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he finally said, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he took a long sip of gin. He hated it, but he’d managed to drink through his entire supply of firewhisky that week and this was all he had left. “You have a wealth of information you can share.”

“It’ll kill me.”

“Why? And, really, why should I care?”

“He made us take Unbreakable Vows; all of us working here anyway,” she sounded annoyed at the idea that her homicidal boyfriend would have trust issues – _imagine that_. “I don’t have to tell you what happens if I break it.”

He pushed himself off the sorry excuse for a chair and she immediately cowered, her fear of him overwhelming her fear of the murky being below her.

_You’re not a monster,_ Tina’s voice reminded him, weaker than before.

“I’m feeling kind today. Merciful, really, so I’ll give _you_ the choice. You can either tell me what I need to know and still die with some fucking dignity, or, I can lift the spell keeping the monster below you sleeping and we’ll see what happens next.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

He took another sip, the ice cubes rattling against the empty glass. Dry as fuck, _fuck_. He threw it into the pool below her where it sizzled and shattered in seconds. He didn’t think she could withdraw further but she did. “I still have traces of another man’s blood on my suit. What have I told you lot about assumptions?”

Something flashed in front of her eyes; a new sense of fear, perhaps, or surprise. “It’s illegal. You wouldn’t-”

Percival lifted the paper, the pictures of the three men he’d killed flashing prominently. “I wouldn’t, _what_ , exactly?”

How _dare_ she. How _dare_ she sit there like an arrogant cunt while knowing what Grindelwald did to him. She deserved to die. She deserved-

_You’re not a monster._

The voice was merely a whisper amid a storm.

He stepped up to the edge. Travers kept her eyes fixed to his, ever the façade of a brave Auror like he’d taught her and the others when they were still trainees. The poor girl tried, but he could see the shift in her cheek as she bit down on her lip, and could definitely see how she tried to look discreetly at the beast coming to life underneath her.

“An Unbreakable Vow requires three parties to be present. You, your sorry excuse of a lover, and a third person.”

She shook her head, the words strained. “I don’t know.”

“Man or woman?”

“ _I don’t know_.”

“Well what did they sound like?”

“I don’t fucking know!” She finally screamed, her voice shaking the pool beneath her. “And, and-even if I did, I wouldn’t fucking tell you.”

She wouldn't tell, sure, but her mind still held the delicious secrets. Secrets that, if uncovered, would help capture Grindelwald, would end everything.

Thanks to his captor, he knew exactly how to get through Occlumency and take what he wanted. Enough hits of Cruciatus, timed well enough to not drive the person completely insane, apparently did wonders.

Her eyes tore from his, going to the wand he so carefully examined in his hands. How many hits, he wondered, would it take for her to break? How many hours? She shook her head, the façade slowly falling apart as she began to understand the workings of his mind.

_She’d rather die betraying you than betraying him._

He knew the curse. He had the intent.

But it was an Unforgivable. It was a former Auror.

But they could win the war. He could save lives. It would be for the best. For the greater good.

He shut his eyes, wanting to hate himself for even thinking that, and maybe he did.

_You’re not… you’re… Who the fuck are you?_

\--

Tina came up with every excuse in the book to avoid going down to the cells.

She visited her sister, twice, under the guise of coordinating dinner plans and whatever other nonsense they never did. Both times she ended up with something marginally healthy in her hands – an apple, sour as she felt - as her sister yelled out a hearty _‘I told you so!_ ’ in regard to the potion. Both times she convinced herself that the prison cells couldn’t possibly be worse than that embarrassment.

She tried visiting Percival, under the guide of… anything. But his office was locked each time. Smith swore he saw him wearing a silly eye-patch after leaving the infirmary and DeSoto saw how furious he looked after leaving Picquery's office, their supposed argument causing such a clatter that no one dared speak to either party. She dearly hoped it was the former.

But there was no use avoiding it. They had twelve fanatics in custody and while Percival was absent, she was the highest ranked. She had to lead the interrogations.

“I want to know everything,” Tina bellowed to the sea of leather jackets following her down MACUSA’s atrium. Typists and obliviators, goblins and people alike all parted like the sea. “Where they’re from, who they know, what they had for breakfast.”

“What if they resist?”

The question came from an Auror near the back. “It’s what Veritaserum was invented for.” Tina muttered, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. It wasn’t exactly frowned upon, but it was a sign that the Auror in question had failed at their job. The first handicap was Veritaserum, the second, Legilimency – but that required consent forms and other red tape that would take days to clear.

Percival never needed them. She wouldn’t either.

It was her first time entering the cell block since her time there with Newt. Her stomach twisted at the familiar sights, at the hall where the Swooping Evil had torn through the same Aurors who were now following her orders like gospel. Their steps echoed through, bouncing through each pillar and giving the impression that Tina led hundreds of men instead of a mere two-dozen or so. But to her, it may as well have been an army.

And it was with their thundering steps that she stilled her trembling hands. She wasn’t going to the death cells. She wasn’t in chains. She was the one in front of the pack, and even though the cold, humid interior of those basements clung to her like a sickness, she would continue.

“Senior Aurors, take a Junior or two with you and show them how it’s done,” Tina said as they unlocked the various cells, all filled to the brim with men and women that seemed genuinely surprised to see her, and all still dressed with the elegance the restaurant required. They looked to her for _help_ , waving her down and crying ‘miss’ as she passed. “Remember, don’t be-”

“Where is my soup?” One of the prisoners in a sparkling robe that tripped him up growled as an Auror put him in chains; Tina had seen it in one of Queenie’s magazines and knew that item alone cost more than her monthly pay. “I asked an hour ago and still, no soup!”

Tina shook her head, more annoyed than confused and continued. “Don’t be afraid to use force when necessary. We’ll reconvene in at the Auror meeting.”

“Force? This is the worst service I’ve ever encountered,” an older woman scoffed behind her rounded bonnet. “Madam, I will be writing a strongly worded letter to your supervisor.”

“Not if you like your nose in one piece.” Tina smiled as an Auror pushed her into the room, flanked by two eager Juniors. The woman mouthed something else off but the door closed before she could hear it.

“Goldstein?” Smith piped up from behind her, his voice barely heard amongst the wave of muffled complaints and rattling chains. “Have you seen Mr. Graves?”

“No,” _damn it_ , Tina thought, looking around the corners as if he were hiding there and waiting to come out. “Not yet. Why?”

“Well, see, I’m no expert on human psychology and all but I think there’s something wrong with the prisoners.”

“Yeah, they’re all Grindelwald fanatics.” Tina deadpanned, directing Dawlish, his Junior, and his prisoner to one of the empty interrogation rooms. _Marigold Pavil_ , Tina noted, looking at the Auror eagerly trailing him, her blonde hair in a tight chignon that made her look like a student. Dawlish’s report might be fraudulent, but hers, she could probably trust.

“No, I mean,” Smith continued, frustrated. “They’re all balled up, like they’ve been confounded or something.”

“It’s all an act,” Tina reasoned, pulling a middle-aged man out of his cell, someone she immediately recognized from Grindelwald’s round table. She wasn’t sure who she was trying harder to convince. “Don’t believe it for a second.”

“It’s not!”

Tina stopped, offended prisoner man in hand like a bag of groceries. “How do you know?”

“It’s too well-coordinated, even for him; for them.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate him,” Tina said in a vain attempt to brush him off but it did nothing. He still followed. “Did you learn nothing from that report Mr. Graves assigned you?”

He huffed, but stopped following her. If it was all an act, as he suspected, someone would falter. There were twelve of them. _Twelve_. They would never be able to keep a story straight. And, even if by some miracle they all lied their trousers off, there was always plan B and C.

“DeSoto,” Tina called out to the young Auror who seemed all but lost in the crowd. “Come with me, I’ll need your help.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Let me go you damn hussy!” The prisoner grumbled, trying to wrestle away from her as if she was somehow the aggressor. Tina put her foot down but DeSoto grabbed at the scruff of the man’s neck. He protested, but kept his mouth shut long enough for them to stick him in one of the corner rooms.

DeSoto at least, was far more patient than she was willing to be. “Sir, if you do not comply we will have to use force.”

“Look, darling, you’re a skirt short of a woman right now, but reason with me will ya?” He groaned, leaning into Tina’s touch in a way that had her reeling but she did not let go. “I’m only here for my vacation home.”

Tina knew the room was meant to be as uncomfortable as possible for the suspects. The blinding lights, the metallic chairs that just didn’t feel right no matter how they sat, and the freezing chill that went down to the bones was all part of their game. The walls – always bare – were meant to inspire a sense of exposure, to make the person feel completely and utterly powerless. The interrogation rooms were meant to _take_ \- warmth, comfort, and peace of mind most of all.

Tina was _not_ supposed to be the one feeling that way.

“Well? Where is my lunch?” The man appeared completely sincere as he sat across from them. Tina hated the seat, but at least that time she was in the correct one. It was familiar enough to have her heart beating a little faster, but not enough to have her running out of the room.

“Mr. Kramer, you’ve been accused of aiding and abetting a known criminal to bring upon the destruction of our world.” Tina recited, ignoring him and the slight break in her voice.

“I-what? I just came to visit!”

“If you’re found guilty, your crime is punishable by death.”

“I don’t know who you are, _kitten_ ,” he said, fighting through his chains to point a demanding finger at her. “But this is unacceptable.”

“Mr. Kramer, if you cooperate we are willing to show leniency”

He slammed a fist down at the table, the slam complemented only by the rattling of iron on his wrists. DeSoto, somehow the more restrained one, raised his wand to immobilize him.

“This is my summer home,” he growled, indignant. “How dare you chain me up? At least take me to dinner first, darling.”

“This is an open investigation,” Tina continued, her blood boiling just beneath her skin. _Patience_. “Where is Mr. Grindelwald currently hiding?”

“Who?”

Tina tried not to look or sound as frustrated as she felt. “Mr. Gellert Grindelwald. You met with him at approximately seven o’clock at night at The Silent Owl on Tuesday the 21st of December-”

“At the where? Lady, I was at a bar last night. Just ask Woodrow-”

“Mr. Kramer, I saw you myself,” Tina interrupted, looking over at DeSoto. “You were sitting at his right side.”

“This is ridiculous,” the man breathed, attempting to stand but DeSoto only needed to mutter a quick spell and he was back down. “You people are ridiculous. My agent told me the Berkshires would be nice, but fuck me, being treated like a common criminal.”

“The Berkshires?” Tina asked, finally unable to ignore the odd remarks any longer.

“Yes damn it, do you people know _anything_?”

Their situation did not improve. The man continued to demean Tina, at one point only vaguely answering the soft-ball question DeSoto lobbed at him. With each passing minute, all three souls in the room grew ever impatient; Tina tapping her quill on empty parchment, DeSoto shifting in his seat, and their prisoner growing shorter, and shorter with them. Tina tried to get him to falter in his story. She’d ask him to elaborate on his ruse, switch the topic for a while and then ask again but it was always consistent. He never mixed up the names of his comrades – Job, Tristan, and Gorsky – or how they all couldn’t wait to try the puff pastries in the cafeteria (he nearly fell apart when Tina told him there were, indeed, no puff pastries.)

DeSoto was about to begin another line of questions when he was interrupted by a small, gentle squeak from behind her and they all turned to the paper mouse running its way up the table like its little life depended on it. It unfolded itself to Tina and two pairs of snooping eyes. She folded it back, quickly.

“Mr. DeSoto, can you fetch me a vial of Veritaserum?”

_It’s time sensitive, honey, you don’t have hours,_ Tina reminded herself _._

“Yes ma’am.” He muttered, already with a foot out the door and probably as eager to leave as they all were. It slammed behind him, leaving her alone with their deranged or exceedingly well-trained prisoner. There was an odd calm about him, that even as she threw the book at him had no effect in shaking his resolve. Unfortunately, the lines were often blurred and Tina would be the one picking that apart.

Now in somewhat more privacy, she unfolded the note.

_‘Where are you?’_

Tina knew that ghastly handwriting anywhere; barely readable everywhere but the signature. With a fresh piece of parchment, she scribbled a note back.

_‘At the cells, in an interrogation’_ , she scribbled back, determined not to tell him how badly it was going. Not yet. ‘ _You?’_

“Is this going to take much longer? Can I please return to my room already?”

“If you can tell me where Mr. Grindelwald is, I can.”

He slumped in his seat, the clanking chains dragging across the table before settling on his lap. “I already told you, kitten, I don’t know who he is.” His voice, sapped of all anger had settled into something weary.

No one ever expected interrogations to be easy; as Percival told them time and time again. The first key was persistence. That, Tina knew, she could happily check off her list. The second key, though, was something much harder to discern and Percival’s specialty – finding your target’s weak spot. Fears, motivations, ambitions; anything they could abuse. So far, the only thing she’d managed out of Mr. Kramer was that he wanted to go ‘back home’, wherever that was.

She hadn’t tried prodding his fears, and hoped she wouldn’t have to. But he wasn’t leaving her with many options.

Another squeak from somewhere in the room, another mouse.

_‘Heading back to my office. Update on our turncoats? Is the cabinet still secure?_

_Don’t feel great about the location.’_

Her prisoner tapped his fingers against the desk, as if she was the one inconveniencing _him_.

_‘Dawlish is acting normal – assigned him to an interrogation._

_You still have Travers with you right?_

_Cabinet’s fine. Don’t worry. Artifacts Department is a maze.’_

She folded the note and sent it scurrying back in time for DeSoto to waltz back in, clutching his hat in his hand as if he’d done something wrong.

There were no vials in his trembling hands.

DeSoto cleared his throat. “We are out of Veritaserum, Ms. Goldstein.”

Kramer, still slouched started to laugh, the only one in the room to find the mess of a situation amusing at all and Tina just wanted to hex the heck out of him for it.

“What do you mean? How can we _possibly_ be out?”

 “The others were using it,” he said, raking his hand through his hair much the same way Percival did in difficult situations. “We aren’t the only ones with minor difficulties.”

Minor difficulties! Getting Percival to take Dreamless Sleep was a minor difficulty. She didn’t know what this was, but it was certainly not minor. They both tried not to show their collective amazement at the situation unfolding before them and turned back to their man.

This was ridiculous. She had to tell Percival.

“DeSoto, I need you to continue this,” Tina said, putting all of Percival’s notes to her in her case folder, a leather-bound book that continued to increase in girth proportional with her stress about Grindelwald. “Leave your notes on my desk when you’re finished.”

She stepped out of the room into the quiet halls, finally able to breathe again. For as cold as that little room was, it had a suffocating aspect to it and being in the spacious halls again was nothing short of a relief. Some of the rooms had emptied of both Auror and captive, having given up sooner than she had. If Smith’s theory was true, if they had all been confounded, then the next step would be-

“Hey Goldstein!”

Tina snapped back to reality and turned to the owner of an all too familiar voice. It couldn’t, it wasn’t-

“Travers,” Tina gasped, her wand pointing straight to the woman’s chest without a moment’s hesitation, the sheer curiosity stopping her from cursing the former Auror into pieces. “You’re here.”

“Woah, easy there Goldstein,” she stepped back, her confusion matched only by Tina’s. “I’m only here as a messenger.”

“From whom?” _Grindelwald?_ Tina wanted to continue but stopped, not putting her wand down.

“Smith wanted to give you his papers,” she said, taking a step towards Tina but only causing her to firm up her grip. “What’s up with you today?”

“ _Where were you this morning_?”

Travers must’ve been sure Tina was on her way to the nuthouse at that rate. “Why the hell does everyone want to know? My owl was sick so I took it to the Owlery.”

“You took your owl to the Owlery.”

“Yes? Barristan’s been my owl since school, remember? He attacked your sister’s rat our fifth year.”

“The barn owl.”

Oh, she remembered alright. As did Queenie, though not quite as fondly.

“That one. Well he must’ve eaten something rotten on his way back; was throwing up chunks when I opened the window. So, I took him in.”

“And Graves?”

Now she looked thoroughly confused. This was not acting; Travers was downright awful in all of their impersonation exercises. “I told him the same thing. Does everyone need to know? I come in late one time and I swear-”

“I was just worried,” Tina lied, lowering her wand in a way that made it easy to still cast something if the situation called for it. “With Grindelwald on the loose, it’s not safe.”

She looked away at the mere mention of his name; a tell if she’d ever seen one. “I get it; the creep. Well, do we still have the evening meeting or can we go home?”

That was a lie. And a change of topic, further reinforcing the lie. The bit of the owl wasn’t, but she was so convinced it was true, that she’d really been at home with her owl and…

_Oh._

She’d been obliviated. Percival obliviated her and replaced the memories of the morning with something entirely different; and a damn good job at it too because she was _convinced_.

“Yeah, it’s still on,” Tina muttered. “Go in with DeSoto, room four. He could use the help.”

Amazing. It was as if nothing had happened.

Tina marched her way upstairs, pushing her way through the crowds that looked and felt like nothing but a blur, moving and swaying, their sounds vibrant against her ears but indistinct. Someone mumbled a ‘sorry’ as she pushed past and she didn’t know if it had been her or someone else; someone important.

Their prisoners had been confounded and only one man’s name stood at the top of the list – Dawlish. It couldn’t have been Travers, and they still weren’t sure what to make of Picquery. Unless there were so many of them that they all took care of the prisoners discreetly, and _that_ was a hard thought to swallow.

When she finally got to Percival’s office, she didn’t bother knocking or entering quietly.

And he didn’t even bother throwing a glance her direction, even though she knew she burst in there with as little care and class as possible. A pale drink in hand – not firewhisky, surprisingly – and a report in another, without a care in the world except for that sitting in front of him.

He was wearing an eye-patch. Over his right eye, like a well-dressed pirate out to steal only the most expensive jewels in a heist.

Percival lowered his glass. Tina shut the door. “Someone wiped their memories.”

“Yes,” Tina confirmed, breathless, sitting in front of him as if she were merely a guest. “They think they’re all in their summer homes.”

“In the Berkshires. Little place in Massachusetts, beautiful in the summer,” he stopped, in thought. “I didn’t think Grindelwald or his people knew about it.”

“Dawlish must’ve done it.”

“Or Picquery. Or, anyone else,” he sighed, throwing the report across his desk. “They were unconscious when they were found. This could’ve happened here or in London.”

“And we have no way of knowing.”

“No.”

It was almost as bad as being back to square one. A day that started out with a dozen of potential gold mines that would wrap everything up for them, now dead and done. Other than trapping Grindelwald in London – potentially, anyway – the best they’d done is take some of the trash off the streets. They still didn’t know what Grindelwald’s plan was, Percival was rapidly decaying right in front of her, and his damn hearing lurked in the corner, like a vulture waiting on its prey to die. At least his knee didn’t look to be bothering him.

The only real lead they could follow would be the traitors.

“You obliviated Travers.”

It wasn’t a question, but Percival knew by now that it was meant to be addressed. When he grabbed a glass to pour for Tina, she noticed the transfiguration had worn off and the red scars lining his hand shone through bright as day. And he didn’t care.

_He didn’t care._

“Yes,” he said, pushing the unknown beverage to her. She indulged him and took it. “I wiped everything from last night to this morning.”

“Why?”

“She can lead us to everyone,” he said, simply. “I didn’t just wipe her memory.”

Tina paused. “You added something,” she smiled, his idea bubbling forth in her mind. “Something that has her going to the others.”

“To all of them,” he shrugged. “I made her think they’re having a meeting tomorrow morning, and that _she_ has to gather the rest of their people at MACUSA.”

“So while Grindelwald is stuck in London-”

“We remove all his followers from him in one fell swoop,” he took his own glass, raising it to her but without even a hint of a smile. “Cheers.”

“That’s brilliant. Fucking brilliant.”

He sneered, drinking in the whole glass at once. “Brilliant,” he repeated in a mocking tone. “You’re far too kind, Tina. You’ve got a good heart,” he paused. “It’ll get us all killed.”

“And you’re drunk,” she sighed, noting the odd behavior. They had a plan; they had a chance again. He should be _happy_. She looked down at her own glass. “What the hell is this anyway?”

“Gin. Fucking terrible,” he growled, clumsily pouring himself another glass without noticing the contradiction. “Ran out of firewhisky.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” she said, pulling the glass away from him. “Stop.”

“I’m not drunk.” Percival said, indignant.

“You are, and it’s not up to debate.”

Tina was reminded all too well of the night she tried to convince him to take that damn potion. And now she was trying to get other liquids away from the impossible man. Impossibly stubborn anyway.

“Give it back.”

“No,” she said, keeping her voice strong. “Why do you need it?”

“I don’t _need_ it, I _want_ it.”

“Why?”

“Tina, I swear.” His eyes locked with hers but there was no anger there, only pain.

“ _Why?_ ”

“For the love of Merlin, please just let me have my glass-”

Tina pulled away, guarding both glasses as if they were precious. “Answer me.”

The fire lit in his eyes and he slammed a fist on the desk hard enough for the glass in the surrounding cabinets and its objects to rattle and screech. “Because I almost killed her.”

She didn’t move. Percival’s chest heaved. The fire seeped through his eyes and disappeared almost as quickly as it came, leaving behind a defeated shell that fell back against the chair, exhausted.

They stayed in silence a bit. Tina was not expecting Percival to be the one to break it. Normally it’d be Tina left to stew on the visitor’s chair, waiting to be reprimanded over some technicality or misconduct. For her to be the one holding him down, while he sat there drained of all emotion was nothing short of painful to watch. It wasn’t just Percival her boss, it was Percival her lover.

Time passed. Minutes, maybe more.

He took another breath, clenching his jaw. “I wanted to kill her.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I _wanted_ to,” he said again. “She begged and pleaded and I didn’t even hear any of it. I felt _nothing_.”

“So why didn’t you do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do know,” Tina whispered, putting down the alcohol he’d clung to so dearly, now ignored. “Otherwise you would have. I know you.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Well I’ve gotten quite used to you, Mr. Graves,” she flashed him a faint smile before walking over behind him to rest both hands along the shoulders hardened by stress and worry. That, at least, drew a breath from him. “Tell me before I rip that stupid eye-patch off you.”

He hummed, some tension falling off him with her pressing. “You’re the only person who noticed it.”

“No, I’m the only person that’s said something. Trust me, everyone noticed.”

There was a stillness in the air between them. They’d be breaking about every rule about no contact during work hours, but Tina didn’t care. She didn’t care. She squeezed the taut muscles slowly, untangling the sea of knots and stress below her. He took another deep breath, looking over at the two glasses of gin but did not reach for either.

“It wasn’t right,” he whispered, the little barriers he’d had shattered by Tina and alcohol of all things. The words struggled to come out and he tried to elaborate, to draw it out more but just shook his head. “It just wasn’t right.”

“And you know that,” she said, concentrating on the powerful man beneath her fingertips, who let out a barely audible gasp when she dragged a hand up his neck and through his neatly combed hair. “You have every right to want to hurt these people. They betrayed you; they betrayed _us_. I’m not taking that away from you.”

“I’m supposed to be above that, I’m-”

“The Director, big whoop, I know,” Tina mocked, and while he didn’t exactly laugh he did snort at it. She’d count that as a victory. “And you’re human. You’re allowed to feel. If you keep trying to suppress all of this your head is going to explode and then who would I kiss?”

_That_ drew a chuckle.

She may not have been able to drag the truth out of their prisoners, but she could make Percival Graves smile; and not in a mocking way, or a sneer, but something genuine. Any Auror worth his salt could lead an interrogation, not so many could have MACUSA’s Director out of a funk. Or, at least that’s what she hoped she was doing.

A knock. Another.

They froze in place.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Graves, your daily Auror meeting is in five minutes.” Nell said from behind the closed door.

Ah, shit, she had almost forgotten. All the Aurors were probably done with their interrogations, meaning her desk would have a dozen reports just waiting for her arrival. Even Percival’s desk, once a bastion for organization, was a complete mess with scattered papers and dirty coffee mugs. Knowing Percival, he would want to continue working well after the meeting was over.

“I missed you today,” he spoke softly, taking her idle hand and dragging it down his chest. “But there’s so much to do, and Picquery’s still bugging me about the fucking memories-”

“I know,” she said, feeling as disappointed as his tone indicated he was. “I do have an idea, if you’re up for it.”

“Hm?”

She pulled away, shifting to face him again.

“My sister’s making pizza for dinner,” she said, gauging his reaction. No comments; not good. “Come over after the meeting. We can eat and talk about the case and make our plans for the morning.”

He was considering it at least. It wasn’t a total ‘no’ yet.

But oh Merlin, in what shape did Queenie leave the apartment? The last time it looked like a hippogriff ran through the place and if she knew her sister, it wouldn’t improve overnight. And then there was the matter of Ms. Esposito; if she knew that Percival was there she-

“Yes. But, no pineapple,” he said with a straight face, standing and straightening his jacket. “It’s a deal breaker.”

Tina scoffed. “Fine, I suppose I can make that sacrifice.”

He stepped closer, as if to kiss or embrace her but did neither. Those kind eyes, hiding more secrets than she ever dared pry out, locked with hers.

“I wish I could take you out,” he said, hooking his fingers around her trouser’s belt loops and pulling her ever so slightly to him. “Anywhere. Dinner, a show, dancing. I don’t care.”

It was said with far more regret than she would’ve expected. That wouldn’t do.

“Maybe this is better,” she kissed the corner of his lips, a little tease that she knew he wouldn’t tolerate. “I don’t want people to think I associate with pirates.”

\--

It was a room that wasn’t supposed to exist. Almost no bigger than a broom closet in the depths of MACUSA’s basements, it was, for all intents and purposes, supposed to be forgotten. Its existence was known by very few, and Mr. Graves had insisted in hiding the vanishing cabinet there, away from prying eyes and, Olly guessed, from Mr. Grindelwald himself. Hidden behind a maze of narrow corridors, damp and impossible to breathe, most people never bothered looking for it, especially with all signs to it pointing to the _vanished limb center_ , whatever that was.

It was nearly time for the evening Auror meeting, but they were supposed to remain there ‘til morning, ‘til Mr. Graves deemed it safe. No matter what the New York Ghost had said, or what Dawlish tried to convince him of, Mr. Graves was a good man; that he was sure of almost as much as he was sure his Holly was the one.

He took out the ring-box from his pocket as his partner leaned back against the cabinet. Solid gold finish, encrusted with diamonds. Just like Holly would love, just like the bracelet he’d gotten her for her birthday.

“You’re really doin’ it?”

“Yeah, once we get out,” Olly answered, puffing his chest out without even noticing it. It almost made him as big as Craster. “I think she’ll say yes.”

Craster sneered, but without any ill intent; Olly knew as much. “Because she ain’t met the rest of the team yet. You keepin’ her all to yourself.”

“Team’s worse than an Erumpent in heat, I ain’t bringing her here.”

Craster laughed, partially for his crude comparison and partially because it was damn true.

“Well, I am happy for ya,” he sighed, pushing against the cabinet, a ghastly and uncomfortable structure that did not belong there. “Invite me to the weddin’, will ya?”

“If Mr. Graves gives us the time off, yeah, of course Cras.”

Craster huffed. “Good luck. The man tried to talk me out of marryin’ Tess last year.”

“What? You’re messing around.”

“Nah, he gave me a whole speech about love bein’ the death of duty or some other malarkey. Get ready, you’ll get it too.”

“I’ll deal,” Olly said, trying not to pity his boss. “Sounds like we need to get Mr. Graves a gal.”

“Oh, he’s got one,” Craster’s eyes narrowed, a thin smile forming on his lips and Olly couldn’t fathom how Craster would be privy to such details, or who he was referring to. “Goldstein. You never notice?”

“No,” Olly felt himself warming at the thought. Tina Goldstein? The clumsy girl who pinched quite a few nerves, with someone like Mr. Graves? No, it couldn’t be. “You’re dreaming, Cras.”

“I know these things, Olly, trust me,” he said with so much confidence that Olly couldn’t question it. “He looks at her like the sun shines out of her ass; he ain’t foolin’ no one. Worse than the way Dawlish looks at Travers, I think.”

“Geez, Cras, you really-”

Footsteps. Small, quiet and barely there but still present nonetheless. All talk stopped, both men’s attention going to the wands still safely in their pockets, the ring-box now hidden, forgotten.

“At ease, gentlemen,” the soft but authoritative voice sounded out of the darkness. The President stepped into view, alone, in a shimmering gold dress with MACUSA’s logo front and center on her chest and her headpiece. She looked more like a walking billboard for a false righteousness than the more reserved woman they all knew. “What are you doing here?”

“Under orders to guard the cabinet until it can be properly disabled in the morning, Madam President.”

“From?”

“Mr. Graves and Ms. Goldstein,” Olly said, at attention. She tilted her head, awaiting more from them and Olly rubbed the coarse wood of his wand. They were confidential orders, but the President was, well, the President. He had no choice. “We’re to stand guard until morning.”

Her lip twitched, her expression slipping into something dismissive. “Thank you for your service, Mr. Claus, you two are dismissed.”

Craster stepped forward but Olly did not budge. Mr. Graves wouldn’t have entrusted them to this if he didn’t believe it was important, and he still liked to believe that Mr. Graves hadn’t gone mad like some of the others thought. After all, the man had saved his life when he was still a rookie. “We have direct orders, Madam President.”

“Yes, and my orders are for you to go home.”

He didn’t need to look to know that Craster didn’t understand; that he thought him crazy, and maybe he was. But he had a bad feeling about that cabinet that he couldn’t shake.

“But Mr. Grindelwald-”

“Hasn’t been seen.”

Olly clutched the ring-box, the smooth velvet holding him to that spot like an anchor.

“Mr. Craster, will you please remove Mr. Claus?”

Craster was no Legilimens, but Olly implored with a single stare; that he’d understand, that he’d stand down with him. Craster’s eyes floated between him and the President, the doubt growing with each suspicious glance.

“I’m sorry, Madam President, but we aren’t ‘sposed to move. Mr. Graves’ orders.”

President Picquery did not move, but the silence behind her eyes could’ve killed them both. “Well, if Mr. Graves has a hunch, I suppose we should listen.”

“We should.” Olly breathed, nodding to his partner who still wasn’t sure of what they were doing.

She turned, taking a few steps back to the doorway. “The evening Auror meeting is soon. Do your partners know you can’t attend?”

“No, ma’am,” Craster responded. “But Mr. Graves and Ms. Goldstein know, s’all that matters.”

She stopped, a hand gracing the edge of the doorway, her rings shining against the little light the room emitted. And then, as quiet as a summer breeze, he heard her whisper. “That’s a shame.”

She turned, slowly, wand in hand with a spell flying off before he could even process what was happening.

A flash of green exploded past him, lighting the room and hitting his partner so quickly he didn’t have time to scream. Something smashed into his chest, throwing him across the room and into the hard edge of the cabinet. A loud crack ripped through the space, culminating with a shattering pain up his spine as he fell to the floor, limp. He tried to _move_ , to get _up_ , to do _something_ but his legs wouldn’t obey. His legs. _His legs – he couldn’t move_.

“All you had to do was move, boy. I didn’t come here to kill you.” Picquery goaded as she strolled over to him.

Every piece of training Mr. Graves had instilled in him flashed to his mind, but he couldn’t even move, or even think. Craster laid across from him, his eyes frozen into the beyond, in death. And now death herself moved to take him next. Yet, he still tried to move away, to fight her, to fight the fear shaking his bones.

“Orders. From Mr. Graves.” He whispered in defiance, something wet and thick filling his mouth and causing a near uncontrollable cough. He squeezed the little box to him.

“Yes, he has gotten a lot of people killed recently,” she sighed. “It’s what he does. It’s who he is.”

“No,” he gasped through the blood. “He's a good man.”

She shook her head, slowly, patronizing. “Not anymore. Not after tomorrow.”

She pointed her wand to him, sure and steady. He thought of Holly, at home, cooking dinner; chicken stew again he’d bet. Listening to the latest wizzjazz hit on the radio. Sitting and waiting for a man who would never come home.

And then, the world turned white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you watched and/or are a fan of Shutter Island, the home at the Berkshires bit should be familiar to you


	19. Dinner at the Goldstein Household

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at the Goldstein apartment features a four-course meal consisting of:
> 
> -A hearty appetizer of Queenie and Percival's mind-reading shenanigans around an oblivious Tina  
> -An exquisite main course of Percival and Tina sharing a different kind of intimacy  
> -NSFW Cocoa for dessert  
> -And a very powerful espresso shot for Percival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was initially going to be about half as long (that's why I promised I'd have this done a week ago, sorry!) But as I kept writing, I just really loved the interaction between the three characters and I just let them keep going. 
> 
> I'm also working on another Goldgraves story that I'm thinking of starting after this one's finished. I have the outline done but I'm not sure if it's something y'all will be interested in. I'll post a quick summary/teaser of it on tumblr under the goldgraves, percival graves, and tina goldstein tags tomorrow/later today so keep an eye open and feel free to weigh in! If there's enthusiasm, I will write it.

Percival had never seen Tina fret.

He’d seen her frown in frustration over his ‘inability’ to go to the Healers, or pick nervously at her jacket before the more harrowing missions they all dreaded. Had always noticed the way her eyes glazed over then as she thought up some rather creative solutions, her lips moving silently as if reciting a non-verbal spell. All cute little quirks, but nothing compared to the sheer panic as she raced into the apartment before him, grabbing loose articles of clothing and books and objects that didn’t look _completely_ legal; all flying magically into cabinets and drawers scattered inside.

As disorganized as it was – no doubt her sister’s doing – the small space at least limited the level of clutter. _Too_ small, to be perfectly honest. To think two people shared something the size of his living room alone was downright despicable. These were two working women and this was the best they could afford?

Percival made a mental note to look at the MACUSA pay scales because something was clearly off.

Was this how all his Aurors lived? What about the ones without siblings to share the burden? How the hell did Olly pay for that engagement ring?

“Mr. Graves!” Queenie nearly dropped the dough enveloping her hands. She stood behind the oven, that single tile encompassing their kitchen. These girls deserved so much better. “Wasn’t expecting you, sir.”

The glare she shot Tina could’ve brought in a new ice age.

“It’s alright, Ms. Goldstein, I don’t bite,” he said, the heat from the confined space drawing an uncomfortable pull in his stomach. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it over Tina’s coat. “Do you need help?”

There was a quick gasp at her question and Percival could’ve sworn he heard hushed murmurs along the lines of ‘ _Teenie you never mentioned he was helpful_.’

Oh, did she never? Tina took one look at him before turning away and now he was damn sure making a point to help. Queenie had no qualms when he took the mess of dough and adjusted it around his hands as his grandmother taught him so long ago and perfected over years of bachelor life. Neither woman said a word. Not when he threw it in the air a few times – the third just for showing off – and certainly not when he handed back the perfectly shaped base for their dinner.

Tina was beaming and turned away from him, probably embarrassed at how _obvious_ she was being. “Auror, Beater, _and_ Pizza Chef, Mr. Graves?”

Percival was about to respond when a sharp jolt to his knee sent him into a panic. It was too soon; it couldn’t be. He _had_ more time, didn’t he? If Jacobs was wrong, if Tina’s curse had spread that badly, then their whole mission was in jeopardy, then-

He fell back against the closest chair he could and while Tina did not turn, Queenie did, her eyes wide.

_Oh no. Oh shit._

_Please don’t say anything Queenie. Please._

If Queenie felt the need to blow the secret right there and then he couldn’t blame her. They were sisters; sisters who raised and protected each other and he was still a newcomer. A suitor first and a boss second.

But, she didn’t say a word. Instead, she tapped at the wand hanging loosely in her pocket, and pointed up to her head.

Percival looked down to his wand, pointed to Queenie and gave her a nod. She nodded back.

It had been a while since he attempted to be in someone’s mind. After his experience with Grindelwald, he wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of being so intimate with someone. Queenie was a different sort; when she heard that thought of his, probably loud as ever, he never felt her presence in him for a second. It was something so swift that she must have been practiced over years. She just _knew_.

Grindelwald had never been so kind. After enough hits of the Cruciatus Curse, he barreled through with all the rage of a stampeding Erumpent. He wouldn’t just pull memories, he would yank them from the recesses of his head while showing zero concern with keeping his mind whole. It wasn’t just invasive and humiliating. It hurt. Grindelwald made sure it hurt.

Knowing the dangers, Percival entered Queenie’s mind as quietly as he could and thankfully didn’t have to fish to find her thoughts, loud as his, and it was as if they were having a normal conversation.

_Do you mean that bone breaking curse? I thought you and the Healers cured it!_

Tina was busy sprinkling cheese over the sea of sauce her sister had put, oblivious to what was happening.

_Only the caster can truly remove it and he’s indisposed. It was going to keep hurting her. I took it, thought I could keep it stuck to the curse I already have; keep them feeding on each other. It didn’t work._

Queenie flashed him a solemn look, one he did not need.

_That’s very brave._

Percival rolled his eyes.

 _No, just a fool in love._ Another look of surprise and now it was Percival turning red as their sauce. _Don’t tell her that either._

 _I won’t say a thing, Mr. Graves_ , she thought hard, an easy fragment to pull from the forefront of her mind. She put down the ingredients and walked to him, discreet. _You’re a good man_.

Before he could think of a hearty ‘not always’ she squeezed his shoulder, quick but firm.

_Thank you. Really._

“Percival?” Tina perked up and he severed his connection with Queenie.

“Hm?”

“When are we storming the castle tomorrow?”

“Before work, at eight, at the diner down the street from work. The Big Over-Easy,” he said, mouthing another thank you to Queenie as the plates flew off the cabinet and landed by each person’s seat. “I caught a glimpse of it when I was obliviating her. They’ve been there before, so it’s not out of the ordinary. There’s a backroom that can only be accessed via password and I have no doubt that’s where they’ll be.”

“Do you know the password?”

“No, but,” he thought a moment. “I have no doubt you’ll figure it out again.”

“No pressure,” she sighed. “All of MACUSA grabs breakfast there, so they probably think they’re immune. But, we can grab crooks and breakfast; no better start to the morning.”

“Tina, this isn't a joke,” Percival stressed, looking down at the stuffed folder she left at the center of the dining room table. A not so gentle reminder of the complexities of their mission. “Until I arrive with the reinforcements, it’s just you in there, with Merlin knows how many of them.”

Queenie gasped as she slid the oversized pizza into the oven. “Alone?”

Now Percival almost wished they had dinner at his house. It certainly was not protocol to share this kind of privileged information with someone who wasn’t even an Auror.

_And where did protocol get you? Captured?_

“Only until we can see who from MACUSA shows up. Tina will keep me up to date via the mirror,” he tapped the pocket of his trousers. “And then I’ll bring the rest of the team that we can trust and swarm the place before they can apparate away. But I need you to confirm the purpose of their meeting, otherwise the arrests are worthless. It’s not illegal to just meet privately, though, I kind of wish it were right now.”

Queenie pulled out a couple of glasses and what looked like a bottle of pumpkin juice. "How do you guys know who to trust?"

"Marital status," Percival said, thinking back to all the prisoner bios he pulled that morning. "Grindelwald seems to attract singles. I think the married or soon to be married Aurors are a safe bet."

Like Craster and Olly. Merlin, he hoped he was right about them.

“So, I _am_ going alone.”

 _Without you dragging down the mission this time_ , she must’ve wanted to add.

Percival steadied himself against the idea. It was fucking insanity. No man in their right mind would ever send their loved one into a wolf’s den, and that’s exactly what he had proposed. His job was to _save_ , to _protect_. Not to sit behind the comfort of his desk, watching her through a fucking mirror; watching her get _hurt_.

But what choice did he have?

Was he going to risk a repeat of The Silent Owl over sheer, dumb pride?

“Yes,” he said, almost afraid to say anything else. “Your disillusionment charm is the best I’ve ever seen. You’re made for stealth, Tina, this is perfect for you.”

He wasn’t entirely sure who he was trying to convince.

 _Trust each other_ , Bob had said. Somehow, he’d make it work. And after it was all over, he would walk into that damn hearing, with a horde of prisoners in tow and show all the skeptics that he was still an asset to MACUSA. That no matter how much Grindelwald tried to bring him to his knees that he stood back up, unbroken.

And then they’d take the fight to him, with the force of MACUSA and the Ministry.

 _And then_ , after all was said and done, he’d take Tina out on a date. A real one, with copious amounts of red wine, in the type of place that warranted a hefty tip to the smarmy French host just for the chance of a table. Where the doorman knew his father’s name, where they had at least three different types of forks. Because damn it, they both fucking deserved it.

“You know,” she said, pulling off the eye-patch. The string caught against his hair but came off with a snap; the world now only half as visible. “You’ve come a long way, Mr. Graves.”

“Have I now? Probably the firewhisky.”

“Or lack thereof,” she handed him a sobering potion and he couldn’t help but wonder where the hell she pulled that from, and why she and her sister had it so readily available. Regardless, he took it. He wasn’t stubborn enough to walk into their defining mission with a hangover. “You never told me _why_ you were wearing this, aside from that potion’s side effect – which by the way is not normal. What potion did you say that was?”

“Put it on.” He said, ignoring her last remark.

“What?”

“Do it, Teenie, come on!”

“You just want a reprieve of Remy Roper’s Halloween party,” Tina snapped, playing with the innocent-looking eye-patch. She noticed Percival’s questioning gaze and continued. “He was a Horned Serpent boy who liked throwing parties in the dorm. An embarrassment to your kind, I might add. He told me to try out this horrendous goblin mask with a huge, and I mean gargantuan nose. I didn’t know he had enchanted it to not come off, and, well, I spent the rest of the night crying in a closet with that stupid thing on until an adult was able to do something.”

Queenie snorted a laugh followed by a muffled _‘I’m sorry sis’_ which did nothing for Tina.

“Well, I can assure you it’s not enchanted. Not in that way,” he clarified in hopes that his word meant more than Mr. Roper’s. “Just put it on. Trust me.”

Reluctant but unwilling to back down, she did as instructed, pressing the dark cloth over her eye and gasped.

“It’s – you’re glowing. Half of you.”

“Magical energy,” he hummed. “Something the Charmed Units division was working on to help see things and people hidden in plain sight. It was the closest they could to getting me my sight back for the day.”

“It’s like the world is on fire. Amazing.” She turned her head in all directions, examining every piece of furniture in the apartment before handing it to him. He pushed it back to her.

“Keep it,” he said and she hesitated. “Might be useful in the mission and I’ll be able to see within the hour anyway.”

Another lie. At least that one came with a lingering kiss to his cheek.

Tina walked back to her sister, the memory of the kiss fogging his head and leaving his eyes to float over her sobering figure. She was bent over the counter, likely trying to add some degree of organization to the clutter, giving him a perfect view of how her trousers pressed against her ass. And Mercy Lewis, her legs were parted just a little – just enough – and it would be so easy to press into her. Oh, if her sister wasn’t there he would trap her between his arms, yank the annoying fabric down, and take her right there, from behind, dinner _and_ clothes be damned. The furniture would certainly slam against the wall and-

Queenie coughed. _Loudly_. On purpose.

“You okay, sis?”

“Yeah, yeah, just a little _distracted_.”

Face burning, Percival decided that reading over their case files would be a much better idea until dinner was ready.

It only took him finishing the last of the interrogation transcripts until that enticing smell had Tina pulling the oven open, and it took even less time for the three of them to devour it. Well, for Percival to devour it for them. That angelic smell of garlic and onion and whatever else they had put in had him immediately grabbing two slices to their one. It had been so long since he had something solid to eat, something that didn’t reek of ground coffee beans and desperation and fuck it was so good. So, so good. He folded his last slice in half like his father had taught him, like a _real_ New Yorker and unlike how his mother wanted him to eat. She would’ve had him using a knife and fork, like a proper Graves, like he _should_ have been doing, and not with his hands like an animal and _you’re not a dog, Percy, what will Tina think?_

Percival choked at the familiar voice forcing itself through his head, dropping the cheesy mess back on the plate as if it were poisoned. They looked at him as if he were insane. They weren’t completely wrong.

It was only when Tina’s hand fell over his own that he realized it had been shaking wildly against the plate.

“Are you doing anything Friday?”

“Friday?” The simple question pulled him back, the world unblurring itself even if just for a moment.

“Christmas eve,” Queenie clarified, both sisters putting down what was left of their slices. “Tina and I normally do somethin’ small, a nice roast for dinner, maybe some presents.”

“But I thought you were, well-”

“We are, but,” Tina shot a shy smile to her sister. “We told them everyone in school celebrated both holidays, and so should we. To get more presents.”

“Teenie’s idea, of course. We still do it, out of tradition.”

 _Of course_ , Percival thought as he nudged her foot under the table. Not one to be a wallflower – a fact that once used to annoy him to no end - she responded in kind, rubbing her foot on his ankle and dragging up his calf. It pulled the pant leg up with it along with his blood pressure. Her shoe must’ve been discarded somewhere because it was just skin on skin and if she kept that up-

She stopped. “I am _not_ flirting,” Tina smirked to her flustered sister. “And now we’re even.”

_Even?_

Queenie did not seem the slightest bit perturbed, though her eyes did glaze over a bit, staring longingly into nowhere.

“Well, we’d love to have you over. If you’re not busy celebrating the results of the hearing with another dame.”

Percival sneered. “So presumptive, love. I have a better chance of capturing Grindelwald alone than winning that damn thing, much less finding someone else to put up with me.”

“If – when - we catch the rats tomorrow, I think you have a good chance. Most folks like you, isn’t that right Queenie?”

They both turned to the blonde witch who suddenly deemed her dinner much more interesting than their conversation.

“Queenie? Didn’t you say…?”

“That was yesterday, Teen. You know how fickle people are ‘round the office.”

“What? When did that change?”

Percival slumped against the chair, keenly aware of the familiar throb on his knee that sensed the darkening of the conversation and decided to show its face again. How proper. “Most people don’t particularly like murderers, Tina.”

He could feel Queenie shrink at that remark. Someone did not read the paper that morning; perhaps the only person at MACUSA.

“It was self-defense.”

“He was an unarmed kid.”

“You didn’t know.”

“ _And maybe I should have_ ,” he said, rougher than he intended to be. Tina’s fingers squeezed against him, pressing the scars he hadn’t bothered transfiguring after his mental breakdown with Travers. The same scars he felt all his Auror’s eyes burning a hole through during their meeting, not at all discreet. “Sorry, ladies, I don’t mean to ruin your dinner-”

“Hey, it’s alright, sweetie,” Queenie smiled from across him with all the sweetness in the world. “It’s just, they don’t know much ‘bout what happened between you and Grindelwald. When they see stuff in the paper, they get these ideas and they fill in the holes with whatever they want to believe.”

“You’re not actually suggesting that Percival should just share his most intimate moments because of the court of public opinion.”

“I’m not sayin’ whether he should or not.”

“Because that’s ridiculous. He doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

“But I do, don’t I?” Percival whispered. “It’s protocol. Something I should have done weeks ago.”

“That was a different time, before Grindelwald had people infiltrated in MACUSA.”

“He had them there before. We only just got confirmation this week.”

“I don’t care,” Tina protested, as fierce as he knew she could be. Normally when he was on the receiving end of this conversation it resulted in Tina staying late re-writing paperwork. “No. He’s been through enough.” She said it as if he wasn’t sitting right there with his hand under hers.

Queenie, a little cowed, pushed her chair back and began collecting the collection of mismatched plates and utensils for washing. Tina, mind somewhere else entirely, traced over his knuckles. He knew she was protective of him, but this was a whole new level he hadn’t witnessed from her. Anyone could insist he take foul-tasting potions. Any Auror wouldn’t think twice before leaping in front of another to protect from a hex. But this was Tina, again, defying orders he knew came from the President herself and would surely lose Tina her job if Picquery found out that she had the chance to take Percival’s memories and chose not to.

This was Tina choosing him over her job, again. Someone who, as Assistant Director, had the authority to see those memories, but was choosing not to.

“Please don’t tell me you’re considering it.”

“Tina.”

 “No.”

She said it so quickly he forgot about the subtle tear cracking across his knee.

“What do you mean, _no_?”

“Because I know you don’t want to do it. Not really.”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But, we need it, Tina. If we want to even have a shot at winning, we need it.”

Queenie, slight as ever, excused herself to their bedroom, sliding the double doors shut with a click.

“We don’t need this to win the hearing. You don’t.”

“I think we might,” he sighed. “If we learned anything today, it’s that memory modification is in their arsenal. What if the rats we catch tomorrow try to insist that I’m really one of them?”

 _Or if they try to convince me that I am one of them_ , he thought, grimly.

“That’s ridiculous. You have an alibi – several over the last few weeks.”

“And if we disclose the memories, we have definitive proof of exactly where I was for that month. It would remove all doubt.”

“But, what if they think,” she started but clenched her lips together before she could complete the thought. “Nevermind.”

“That I’m weak?” She didn’t answer. That, ironically, was the strongest response she could have given. “It’s in the back of my mind too, but at this rate I’d rather be considered weak than a rebel.”

Tina sat back, the disbelief at his request written all over her face. He didn’t think his fondness for Tina could increase, but it did. She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, as he often did.

“Do you have a Pensieve?”

Percival cringed, the question drawing discomfort out of him like venom from a snake. He couldn’t believe what he was about to suggest. “We won’t be using a Pensieve for this.”

A quick shade of confusion swept across Tina’s brow as she pushed their hefty folder of notes aside and summoned some parchment from her purse.

Grindelwald had been the only person to ever breach the depths of his mind, to see the deepest and darkest wants, fears, desires he’d even taken to hiding from himself. And that feeling, of having another presence there, looking and searching and _invading_ something no one was ever supposed to see? There were no words for it in the English language; none taught at the halls of Ilvermorny or the basements of MACUSA. Grindelwald had forced himself into his mind that night, and every night thereafter. And, after a while, he didn’t even try to stop it anymore. He just let him take what he wanted, let him pull the strings of his mind as if he owned it. All the while Percival did _nothing_.

“You want _me,_ to,” she paused, her whole body shrinking within itself. “Go into your head?”

“I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t love this,” he said. “But the idea of having my memories out there, when we don’t know who to trust, is a hell of a lot more terrifying.”

“We can keep them hidden under lock and key. Only the three of us would even know they exist.”

“And if someone invades any of our minds, they’ll know about it too,” he said. “At least this way, they don’t exist outside of our heads.”

“It dies with us.”

“Yes,” he nodded, hating the finality of the idea. “It dies with us.”

She was still. The weight of what he’d asked probably dawning on her. Hell, even _he_ hadn’t completely digested the idea still floating in his head.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course you can. Your sister’s a natural at Legilimency so it must run in the family. And you’ve passed the Obliviation tests-”

“I mean, I don’t know if I could do that. To you.”

A beat. _Oh_.

He did not deserve the woman treading her fingers through his. “It’s alright. It’s my choice.”

“Under threat of the President and popular opinion. It doesn’t count. Percival, love, this isn’t right, this-”

“It’s not, but it’s what we have,” he said, ignoring her point. “They won’t trust a transcript written by me, but by you, they will,” Tina frowned at that remark. “More than me. Picquery made you Assistant Director for a reason.”

And it’ll probably be a hell of a lot more optimistic and positive than what he’d write. He imagined his version of events would include more curses and self-deprecating accounts than what’s healthy.

“You’re sure about this?” she suddenly asked, her hand on her wand and he could merely nod. Words would give away the fact that, no, he wasn’t the least bit sure. “Alright. But, if it hurts, if it’s too much-”

“I’ll tell you and we’ll stop.”

“Do you promise?”

Percival bit his tongue, forcing a faint nod.

He straightened up against the chair, gripping the cushion below as if he’d be forcefully ejected from the seat if he hadn’t. She pointed her wand to him, a sight that brought a sudden, dull ache to his chest. He needed to resist the urge to fight back, to run, and to do something against the impeding attack.

It wasn’t an attack. It was Tina. He wanted this. This was alright.

The spell was wordless. A normal person would probably never even feel the soft tingle of someone’s consciousness pulling on theirs, dismissing it as nothing more than the precursor to a headache. She was unlike Grindelwald, and that’s to say, she was gentle. She was barely there, and yet, she _was_ there. Invading and seeing and taking, and _fuck_ he couldn’t breathe. It was nothing and too much all at once and he viscerally pushed away against the intruder, opening his eyes with a gasp.

“Might take a few tries.” He noted, his heart kicking against his chest.

A few tries. Hah! The century’s biggest lie. The second he felt the subtle pull of a memory he would raise his walls with gusto, meaning not just to kick out an intruder but to _hurt_ them in the process. And Tina, poor, patient, Tina had kicked back against her chair more than a couple of times whenever he pushed back. While she had always been reasonably skilled in all areas of magic – a requirement as an Auror – she lacked the sheer power to force her way through his block. That, and, he imagined, the will to do it too. But with every subsequent attempt her demeanor fell and his resolve began to slowly dilute.

Somewhere, a door opened and he found his hand around the slick handle of his wand before properly kicking Tina out of his mind for the tenth time that night.

“The twos of you are killin’ me,” Queenie said, quietly, the pity heavy in her eyes. She’d changed into a bright yellow negligee that revealed far too much skin and he averted his eyes immediately. “It’s not going to work like that.”

“It’s not going to work, period,” Percival muttered. “I’m wasting time.”

“Well with that attitude it won’t,” she fired back. “Look at you, you’re acting like co-workers.”

“We are.” Tina and Percival responded, plainly.

Both of Queenie’s hands went to her hips and she didn’t need to say anything to make her point. “Get together.”

“ _What_?” They both responded, again, in unison.

Queenie took both their hands and pulled them to the couch, disappointed that they hadn’t immediately jumped to it themselves.

“Getting into someone’s mind the proper way is somethin’, well, intimate. He’s pushin’ you away because you two are being too technical ‘bout it. So, just, get friendly and start slow. Try it like lovers. Hide it from the world all you want, just not from each other.”

She flashed them a worrying, but reassuring smile before slipping out and closing the door behind her with a click like a ghost. And then, silence again.

It made sense, in theory. As intimate of an act as sex was, being fully present in the depths of someone’s minds was something most _normal_ couples never even thought to do. Too much of an invasion of privacy, too uncomfortable. Just, too much, in general.

He kicked off his shoes before lying down on that couch and he couldn’t believe how terribly awkward he felt, and not just because both their legs hung out the end. He hadn’t been that nervous with a woman since his first time in the Thunderbird girl’s rooms in Ilvermorny. But, then again, he’d never shared a piece of his mind with any woman before either. They’d seen each other completely naked for Merlin’s sake, but, as they entangled, his heart pounded not out of love or lust but _fear_. Fear that she wouldn’t like what she saw. Feat that he’d never be able to let her in, that she’d see the gesture as a sign of mistrust.

Trust. Mistrust. He did trust her. He trusted the woman with her legs intertwined in his, with one hand caressing the soft spot behind his ear. The woman whom he decided was ripe for a kiss right then and there, who shivered when he brought his hand up the length of her neck to rest on quickly flushing cheeks. If he could let anyone in, it’d be her. Because she deserved it. Because she was worth it.

“Don’t use your wand,” he whispered, breaking from her lips. “You already have your hand where it needs to be.”

“We’re not all as powerful as Mr. Graves without a wand.”

“You don’t need power to get through,” he said, wrapping one leg around both of hers until they were inseparable. If this was going to work, he needed her fully present. He needed every inch of him to not see her as a threat. “Just, focus on what I’m feeling, what I’m seeing. Don’t go digging.”

She nodded, keeping those warm fingers teasing the delicate skin and calming him more than he’d ever admit. It felt wonderful. “Ready?”

“Are we ever?”

She knew him well enough to know that was the closest to a yes that he’d release.

And there it was, the soft tingle of her fingers on his skull suddenly pressing into it – through it - gently, pricking at his senses and kick-starting his heart into another panic. She was in there, she was seeing, she was- _Don’t you dare kick her out, Percival_ , he thought, hard, against his tensing muscles and worried breath. He shifted his focus to the long legs warming his own, to the soft breath tickling his lips and away from the intrusion into his being.

“You’re a little scared. And, nervous?”

He hummed, feeling the tendrils of her grasp on his mind shifting around, enhancing what he already felt. “More than a little. What else?”

“ _Don’t kick her out_ ,” she said. “You keep repeating it like a broken record.”

_She’s not supposed to be here, stop it, stop it, Percival, stop-_

“Yes, good.” He sighed, fighting back the urge to shut down again. His entire skull burnt as if being run amok by ants and he so desperately wanted it off and away. But he held their connection steady, gnashing his teeth and turning his focus to the provocative top she was sporting, with the small locket hanging between those perfect breasts-

“I’m glad you like the blouse.”

“Very much.” He smiled, caught. “And the woman underneath it.”

They stayed that way for a bit, Percival letting Tina into his more immediate thoughts and emotions that bubbled at the surface. Those were always the easiest for any Legilimens to root out, and the easiest for him to let her into. But they couldn’t stay there forever, and with nearly a month’s worth of memories, they didn’t have the luxury to wait.

“Are you ready?” Percival asked, finally, clenching up again.

“Yeah,” she said, stroking the soft hairs above his neck. His breath hitched at the shift. It centered him. “Tell me what to do.”

“Do not venture out on your own. I’m going to bring the memory out, so just grab onto it and hold on, but don't get stuck. When I break out of it, you do too.”

Now the ultimate question. Which memory? They were all terrible as far as he was concerned, for different reasons and degrees of pain.

The soft strokes continued, creating a warmth that wouldn’t last. “Start at the beginning.”

\--

_Grindelwald paced around Percival a for a minute, shaking his head like a parent would to a misbehaving child, before kneeling by the defeated ex-Auror. He took his left hand with care, tracing Percival’s hand with his thumb as if to soothe him, but this was no loving touch. It seemed like he was lost in thought, dragging his fingers over all of Percival’s scars repeatedly, soft enough to appear tender, but too hard to show any real affection._

_“Tell me, do you remember what it felt like when I broke your hands?”_

_“Yes.” He lied through gritted teeth, his heart pounding too hard for him to calm._

_“No. You weren’t exactly awake yet.”_

_“It sure as hell woke me up.” He said, straightening up in a feeble effort to appear strong._

_“I’m sure it did. Now tell me,” he said in his calmest tone yet, tracing each line in Percival’s palm with meticulous care that, quite frankly, no one had ever done to him before. “Why did I do it?”_

_He was close enough that Percival could feel the man’s breath on his lips with each word he spoke. While he was wildly searching those wild eyes for clues as to what was about to happen, Grindelwald kept his gaze steady._

_“Because you feared me.” He hissed, wanting to pull his hands away but being unable to fight the immobilizing spell._

_Grindelwald scoffed, moving his torturous caress over to Percival’s other hand. He took his time to press against each muscle, as a doctor would to a patient._

_“I don’t fear anyone, much less you, Percy,” Grindelwald scolded. “I just wanted to make my life a little easier, and I think I did. But you don’t want to make things easy.”_

_“I’m a prisoner in my own home.”_

_“Only until I’m done here,” Grindelwald was quick to remind. “Don’t you remember our deal? I finish my project here in America, and you can have your old life back. I’m sure you remember, I didn’t use the Cruciatus curse on you when we made that deal.”_

_“I remember.”_

_“So why are you trying to escape?”_

_“I’m not.”_

_“You’ve been practicing wandless magic with these,” Grindelwald said, squeezing Percival’s hands. He bit down hard as the pain coursed through his arms. “I can see it in your memories.”_

_“I’ve been getting myself water and light. Nothing more.” He admitted, knowing he could only hide so much at that point. Another attempt at occlumency would probably end as well as the previous times._

_“Nothing more - yet. Today it’s Lumos, tomorrow it’s Reducto,” he said, going back to his thoughts. Those terrible, long fingers continued to stroke Percival’s palms down to the wrists. “You’ve violated my trust, Percy,” he continued in his disappointed tone. “I thought we had a deal.”_

_“Nothing has changed,” Percival argued, desperate to pull away from this embrace. Grindelwald’s chilling eyes stayed focused on his, unblinking and unwavering. “Don’t do this.”_

_He didn’t mean to beg. He hadn’t begged for anything since it all began; something he had been proud of until that point. But something inside him, some desperate part yearning for everything to be normal again escaped his lips, and could not turn back._

_“I don’t know if I can trust you,” he whispered, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Percival’s in a move that was disgustingly erotic. With a panicked breath, Percival inhaled his own cologne from Grindelwald’s neck and that drew him into flight mode. He struggled to get away, to pull away from this maniac and whatever he was trying to do next, but not even a single muscle twitched. Grindelwald seemed to sense this desperation and held on tighter, brushing his face and his scent against Percival’s scruffy cheek, marking him. “You can’t leave me.”_

_“I’m not leaving. Please, I’m not leaving.” He begged again, feeling Grindelwald’s skin against his._

_“You’re right. You’re not.” Grindelwald whispered, his tone suddenly sadistic. Before Percival could register what was said, and worse yet, how it was said, it was too late. There was a sudden pressure on his left hand, with an audible crack soon following it. For a blissful second his body didn’t realize what was done and there was no pain. But it would not last. The shockwave smashed through his arm like a train, causing him to nearly lose consciousness as the pain rang through to his head._

_“You can’t escape,” Grindelwald teased, his lips right at Percival’s ears. “You can’t leave me.”_

_“Stop,” Percival growled through the searing pain, trying to steady his mind. “Please stop. Let’s make a deal. Please.”_

_“We already had a deal, Percy.” Grindelwald lamented, intertwining his fingers with Percival’s still unbroken ones._

_“The deal hasn’t been broken,” he pleaded, tears filling his eyes as each nerve in his fractured hand screamed for it all to stop. “What do you want?”_

_Another crack and a guttural scream filled the room. The blistering pain shocked his body to the core; his mind whiting and fading in and out as it tried desperately to deal with the sudden overwhelming influx. He then fell forward, his whole body leaning on Grindelwald’s for support._

_“I want,” he started, letting go of Percival’s shattered hands. “No, I need you to understand that my word means something,” he continued, bringing his hands up and stroking Percival’s now long, matted hair. “No more magic inside the case. If you can promise that, I won’t hurt you anymore.”_

_“Yes,” Percival found himself gasping while his body shook, hating the sensation of those awful fingers massaging his scalp. If it kept up for much longer he would soon be begging to be put back into his prison. “It’s a deal.”_

_“Good. Now apologize.”_

_“I’m sorry.” He whispered, saddened that he had succumbed to this point. Both hands continued throbbing and he couldn’t even begin playing with the idea of moving them, much less channeling magic through them. They were useless; a shattered representation of what his mind and soul had become._

_“For?” He goaded, still caressing Percival’s head._

_“Breaking our deal.” Percival breathed, feeling himself start to believe the obvious lie Grindelwald was planting in his head. Who had Percival become? Could he even recognize himself anymore?_

_“Yes, for breaking our deal.” Grindelwald repeated. He planted a firm kiss on Percival’s head before sending him off and back to the small prison that reeked of fear and loneliness more than it did a month of neglect._

_With the lid finally closed and the silenced abyss embracing him again, Percival let himself release the flood of tears he had been holding back from his torturer. At least the darkness wouldn’t judge him._

\--

_My name is Percival Graves._

Percival could just barely feel his mind growing colder, the warm presence he’d gotten used to withdrawing and leaving him empty.

_I am Director of Magical Security at MACUSA._

Something shifted around him. Now physical warmth seeped out and evaporated into the air.

_Grindelwald is not me. Only I am me._

A slew of noises, some familiar, some not. A quill scratching on parchment. Wood scraping on wood. A door shutting. Something tumbling?

_I am here to protect. I am here to serve. I will not yield._

_I will not yield._

Percival grasped at consciousness, wrestling it down like a ravenous beast until his heart kicked him awake with a sharp gasp.

There was light, bright and blurring. His right eye was working. He took a breath. He was back. He never left.

He was alone.

Every bone and joint cracked as he sat up for the first time in hours and _fucking hell his knee_! Percival bit his lip hard enough to taste blood and he was momentarily thankful that Tina was, well, wherever the hell she went to. Probably the restroom. At least he had the right mind to ‘borrow’ some of those bone healing potions from Jacobs’ office, and leave them in the inner pocket of his jacket. It still tasted like shit, and he barely got a minute of having both eyes again before the potion dulled it again, splitting the world between darkness and light.

“Tina?” He called out, quietly, all too aware that at this hour her sister must have been asleep.

Fuck.

He knew he was pushing it with that last memory; that he’d been going too fast. She tried to hide it, but even with half his blurry vision he noticed the dried streaks that scarred her cheeks. She said she was fine, and he believed her, because he desperately wanted it to be true. So he pushed, like he always did, and he never fucking learned.

With his knee stitching back together, melting the pain to the depths from whence they came, he stood. The roll of parchment she had abandoned at the dinner table was filled with her scribbles. Page after page of her own recollection from his hell, with the curly, elegant handwriting degrading into chicken scratch the deeper he looked. Some pages held long smudges on the ink rendering a whole line unreadable, no doubt from ignored tears, and there was no way Percival could bear to read anything she had written. He pushed it away. Even if she insisted, he was not about to show her another damn thing.

But where the hell had she gone?

He knocked on the door to their bedroom, as gently as he could, and waited.

Inside, there were covers ruffling, followed by light footsteps scurrying along the creaking wood. A click. Queenie slid the door open, sleep still weighing on her eyes. “Mr. Graves? Is everything- _oh-_ ”

 _Oh?_ He peeked over her, but found Tina’s bed empty and neat, a pile of books sitting atop the pillow. “Is Tina with you?”

Queenie stared straight ahead, her lips moving rapidly but silently and spelling out words too quickly for him to make out.

She pushed past him, manners be damned, making a beeline for the small broom closet by the fireplace but when she opened it, it was empty.

Or so it looked.

Percival could clearly hear hurried breathing from within, but there was no conceivable room for a person in there. A lone broom, a Nord Model T from the 1910’s, sat forgotten in the corner, next to a stack of old Witches Weekly magazine, and a box filled to the brim with records (did they even own a Gramophone?) Queenie knelt and immediately the stack of magazines toppled over without a single touch, as if slapped by a ghost.

Or a disillusioned Tina.

“Teen?” Queenie whispered, reaching into air and now he heard a panicked sob.

“ _He’s here_ ,” she shrieked. “He’s- oh Merlin Queenie, it hurts. It hurts.”

Percival whispered a Revelio and felt his heart turn to ice as Tina materialized before his eyes. Huddled in the corner, hiding her face behind her knees as she wobbled back and forth, her knuckles white from the death grip she had on herself. He’d seen that before. He’d _been_ that before.

But he’d never seen it take hold on a loved one. Never had to watch someone he cared about withdraw into nothingness to escape; to escape something _he_ shared with her and the guilt punched him in the gut.

“She’s stuck,” he whispered, crouching, his knee not completely better but he grit his teeth through the ache. “I need to get her out.”

“What can I do?”

“It’s alright, I can-”

“Mr. Graves,” she frowned, giving him the same look of defiance Tina always did. Merlin’s beard, it ran in the family. “She’s my sister, I’m helping. Tell me what you need from me.”

“Do you have cocoa?” Queenie nodded. “Alright, could you make some? It helps.”

She disappeared behind him. Tina still hadn’t come out of her protective position and he wasn’t entirely sure how much of her was present.

“Tina,” he said as softly as he could manage and she jerked away. “Tina, it’s Percival. I’m right here.”

“Graves?” Tina peeked out slowly, her pupils wide enough to swallow the world whole.

“Yes, just me here. Just us. You’re safe,” he started. “I’m going to touch you, alright? It’s just me. My hand.”

“Yeah,” she said, hesitantly. He clasped his hand over hers and when she didn’t shy away, he pushed it up the rest of her arm. It was a small effort to soothe her, maybe smooth over the bad memories replaying themselves in a loop and merging with whatever was in her line of sight. “I can still feel him. I can smell him.”

“I need you to go into your safe space, love,” Percival pressed his thumb against that little spot behind her ear, rubbing it in circles as consistently as he could like she had done to him. If it centered him, maybe it could center her. “Can you do that?”

“I don’t,” she breathed, the flashes of light in her eye showing a desperate desire to come back to reality. “I don’t know, I don’t have. I don’t.”

Ah, right. Fuck. Tina had never gone through the slew of Senior Auror training because of her fucking demotion. She was never taught to make a safe space in case of capture, or advanced Occlumency, or anything required for high class field operatives.

But she needed one, and by Merlin he was going to make it happen right there. They’d both have to wing it a bit.

“Pay attention to my voice,” he started. “And my touch,” he continued, still drawing circles into her skin. “Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Who are you?”

“I-I’m Tina. Tina Goldstein.”

“And what do you do?”

“I’m an Auror.”

 _Assistant Director_ , he corrected in his mind.

“What do Aurors do?”

She swallowed, hesitating a moment. “They help people. They save people.”

“Right,” he muttered. “I need you to remember that. Remember who you are, and what you’re doing. And why you’re doing it. Can you repeat it for me?”

She nodded, her eyes scrunching as she fought the nightmare trying to claim more real estate in her mind. But she could beat it back, he knew she could. “My name. My name is Tina Goldstein,” she took a hard breath. “And I am an Auror. I help people. I protect people.”

“Beautiful,” he smiled as she repeated it, a little light returning to her eyes each time. “Now I need you to imagine a time in your life where you were happy. Truly happy. I need you to take me there.”

“Last night, with you.” She said it so quickly he could never doubt it.

“We need something deeper than that. Something true to yourself, that no one can take away. A moment that’s only yours.”

Her eyes continued to dart wildly around the room, seeing and sensing threats that didn’t exist before briefly settling on his with another nod.

“Describe it to me. Where are you?”

“Arizona.”

_Arizona? Really?_

“Alright,” he said. At least it wasn’t New Jersey. “What are you doing there?”

“We-we were on a trip, to California, with a no-maj car. Queenie and I. Going through the Grand Canyon and the desserts and parks.”

“Hm,” he hummed, closing his eyes. “And why is that special to you?”

“Freedom,” she blurted out. “To go anywhere, to do anything. Only the long road ahead of us. We were free and it felt amazing.”

“I need you to hold onto that feeling, hold it tight,” he dropped another hand to her knee. She did not flinch. “Think about the summer sun burning your cheeks. Is it too hot?”

“Yeah, Queenie warned I’d get burnt. She was right,” Tina smiled. It was working. “It’s really dry. It’s almost hard to breathe.”

“Quite arid, I agree,” he paused, rubbing her knee the same way he did behind her ear. “Do you see trees? Maybe a cactus?”

“Cactus, yes,” she said quickly. “There were so many by the road. Some were taller than us.”

“Did you touch it?”

“Yes, and it was a terrible idea.”

Queenie shuffled behind him, drawing out a couple of mugs before whispering, “I also told her not to do that.”

“Wonderful. This all sounds wonderful,” he whispered, watching the iron grip she had on herself starting to loosen. “I need you to live in that moment right now. Feel the sun on your back, the prick from the cactus still burning your finger. The road stretching before you, drawing out so far it doesn’t seem to have an end, and maybe it doesn’t. But you’ll travel down it a bit before coming back to me, alright?”

“Yes. Yes I will.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, brushing away the wet strands stuck to it. Both hands were tiring from the little massage but he kept it up because it worked. Because if it were him there on the floor she’d do the same until her fingers fell off.

“I’ve heard about this before,” Queenie spoke softly. “Kinda like a mental safe house, right?”

“Right,” he was now using his hands to both caress and hold her up. “It keeps you sane in the most trying times.”

And when every inch of his body shivered in pain from hours of the Cruciatus curse, it was the only thing he could do to avoid losing his mind completely.

“What’s yours?”

“A house, in the mountains. Close to Denver,” he said. “It belonged to a friend’s family. We went there in the summers. You know, hiking, fishing. _Girls_.”

He smiled at the last bit and he suspected she did too. “Well weren’t you quite the adventurer.”

“Once upon a time,” he sighed. “I used to think I picked the wrong house in school.”

“Picked? You had more than one totem choose you?”

“Horned Serpent and Thunderbird.”

Queenie stirred the little pot, the steam already rising. “Picked one for you and the other for your women?”

Ah, she had seen that little glimpse in his mind. Merlin, the things Queenie Goldstein could hold over his head if she wanted to.

“I-”

Tina stirred, her body jolting awake and latching onto any piece of him she could grab. The widened pupils had shrunk back, homing in on him and flushed with life.

She lunged forward, nearly knocking him over with a hug that rivaled the first one she’d ever given him. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shhhhh,” he whispered, holding her steady. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“You almost lost your mind because of me; got your hands destroyed because of me.”

“What? No, love, Grindelwald did that. Only him.”

“We didn’t notice, I didn’t notice-I-”

She was squeezing the life out of him but he couldn’t bring himself to stop her. “That’s not your fault.”

“But I should have seen it!”

“Would you notice now?”

“Now?”

“If he tried it again, would you notice?”

“Yeah,” Tina said, quickly. As clever as Grindelwald was, he couldn’t mimic _this;_ Percival was sure of it. Not how he always rubbed the same spot just below her shoulder blade when they hugged, or how his nose always pressed against the shell of her ear when he whispered, as if his precious words belonged only to her. Little things that Grindelwald could try to copy all he would, but would never get exactly right. “Immediately. I would notice, Queenie too.”

“That’s what matters,” he whispered, flushed with confidence. “It was my fault no one noticed before. But now, well, you lot will have no excuse.”

Tina choked out a laugh and he squeezed her back, pleased with himself. Her body relaxed, out of an instinctual love for the tortured man, or his sense of humor, he didn’t know. But it felt right, against a world that seemed so, so wrong all the time. A world that was determined to destroy him but couldn’t take _that_ away from him at least.

“I’ll kill him,” she said, the hatred hard in her voice. “I will.”

“ _We_ will, love,” he responded, much calmer than he predicted he would be. “But first, we get his fanatics. While he scrambles in London, we clean up here.”

“And then we’ll kill him.”

He chuckled into her hair. “Yes, then we get him.”

Queenie laid her hand on his shoulder, motioning to the coffee table by the couch where two mugs awaited them, the steam rising quickly into the cool air. He picked up Tina and with great complaint from his leg, walked her back to the couch, plopping down so both her legs remained draped over his lap. Her hands never once left him, now coiled around his arm while she nuzzled up his neck. Percival dimmed the bright lights a bit, floating the hot mugs to them.

“Can I ask you about them? The memories?”

Tina’s voice came as a whisper against his neck. It was bound to happen sooner or later. He nodded.

“You didn’t really show me the night you were captured. How it happened, I mean.”

“Because I don’t know,” he said, trying to dig that memory out but coming up with nothing but blurs and muffled voices every time. If memories had ghosts, this would be one of them. “I can’t remember it.”

“That’s strange,” she muttered, the mug against her lips. “Why would he obliviate that?”

“Why do you think it was obliviated?”

“Because you remember everything else. You remember even the worst days, when you were hanging on by a thread. Why not this?” She paused, playing with his shirt buttons and absent-mindedly brushing against his chest in the process. If that’s how she did her thinking, he had no issue with it at all. “He must’ve made a mistake. Something he didn’t want you to remember.”

“Good,” he pressed a kiss to her messy hair. And another. “That’s my thought too.”

“He never took you to any warehouses, did he?”

Her body had hardened with the question and Percival frowned a moment, not understanding what she asked. Why would Tina ever think that he took him to-

_Oh. Fuck._

Because that’s what he told the fucking reporters of The New York Ghost. And, of course, he’d forgotten all about that night when he rescued Tina.

“No.”

Silence. She sipped from the cracked mug and just when he thought the follow-up would come, she was quiet again and it was fucking eating him alive.

“I adjusted the Real Time Hex Indicator to find you.”

Another sip. A car sped past the building, its tires screeching. “Because he used a Patronus?”

“That’s right.”

“Who else knows?”

“Only you.”

A pause. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The question came out not with anger or disappointment, but just a hint of betrayal. As if he could ever do that to her, but, in a way, he did. “It’s easier to maintain a lie when no one knows.”

“You didn’t trust me.” She said it as if he hadn't even spoken.

Percival could feel the distance between them growing with each of those words and panic pounded him like a drum. “Tina, I love you,” he whispered, hating that his first time saying it felt so unromantic. “But my job requires a certain amount of privacy. I won’t always be able to share everything with you, and it has nothing to do with trust.”

“Is there more that you’re not telling me?”

He cradled his own mug, hoping the sweet drink would soothe him. It didn’t. “Yes.”

He prayed to every magical and no-maj entity for her not to ask a follow-up question.

Tina put her drink back down on the table, its contents gone already. Her legs had rolled off his, leaving only slight creases as a sign they had even been there and he suddenly felt the whole foundation of what he built with her start to crumble before his eyes.

“Does it have to do with me?”

“Tina, don’t.”

“Percival,” she asserted. “Please. I just-”

“Yes.”

She narrowed her eyes at his shrinking body. This was exactly what he didn’t want; exactly what he feared the most. Not just for Tina to find out the truth, but for her to realize he’d been hiding these things from her for days now, after-

“Ah!” Percival leapt back at the sudden press against his knee.

“Why isn’t this healing?”

“Merlin, woman, that is _private_.”

“And it’s clearly affecting you,” she growled. “It might come as a surprise, but I do love you too, you know. I want to help.”

“I know, but,” he hated how weak he felt to her. “I don’t want you worrying. You already worry enough.”

“I’m already terrified. Now are you going to tell me so that I can at least put a face to what I’m worried about?”

“Fuck,” he whispered, something meant to remain a thought but spilling out like all of his secrets that night. “Please don’t be upset.”

“Just tell me.”

“We didn’t cure Jauncey’s curse from you that night,” he said it so softly he wondered if she even heard it. “I took it from you.”

“ _You what?_ ”

“Tina, please-”

“Are you insane? Percival, you’re the Director, people depend on you-”

“Tina-”

“Grindelwald had already done a number on you, so why in the name of Deliverance Dane would you take any more pain-”

“Because I couldn’t protect anyone!” He roared. “Because he tried to kill you and I couldn’t do anything about it. That’s why I changed the fucking indicator that night. I failed to save you once, I wasn’t going to stand by and fail to do it again. I wasn’t.”

The anger in his voice cracked and started cascading into something that didn’t even seem like it belonged to him anymore. “It’s why I went after you in The Silent Owl. It’s why I still want to go with you tomorrow and it’s fucking killing me not to.”

He was rambling, his voice failing, his eyes watering and _Merlin what the hell was wrong with him_. “And it’s why I took that curse from you. Because it’s my job to keep you safe. And I’d do it again if it meant keeping you alive because damn it, I was not about to watch you die right in front of me. You were _dying_ , Tina. And nothing was working, _nothing_.”

She was on him faster than he could prepare for, and when her arms flew around him, pulling his sorry, slumped-over self to her, he crumbled on her shoulder. Every little thing he’d held back for so long now flowed out like a dam had burst, and he _hated_ himself for it. Hated letting her see him like this, again, hated getting to that point, and worst of all, hated how good it felt to let it all go for once.

“I’m not upset,” she whispered into his shoulder. “I don’t know how to protect _you_.”

“You’re not meant to.”

“Merlin, you're so difficult. I am absolutely supposed to look out for you, and I will.”

He disagreed, but it was a battle for another time.

Tina pulled back a bit, flashing him a quick smile. “I wish you could see yourself how I see you.”

He wasn't sure what that meant, but it was probably flattering, knowing Tina. He wished he could see it too.

He hated that the kneazle was out of the bag, so to speak, but at least it was a relief to not be holding back from Tina anymore. It was even more of a relief that she wasn’t upset; not really. She did smack him when he showed her Jacobs’ potion, noting it was an untested sample that could’ve grown him a third arm _you irresponsible man_ , she had grumbled at the end. Normally having someone – anyone – ordering him to lay down and get some rest would’ve had him reeling, but from Tina, he did not argue. While he laid down to gather his thoughts, she went to change into her bed clothes and boy was he surprised when she stepped back out wearing nothing but a white negligee similar to her sister’s. The skirt was easily a few inches above her knee and the whole thing was only held up by two thin straps clinging to her shoulder.

Percival lay there frozen but his cock did not get the message. And when she sat on top of him, dragging his hand over her breasts while delivering one hungry kiss after another, whatever calm he had achieved was gone. There was so much of her he wanted a piece of and so few limbs that he found himself wishing that damn potion’s side effect did have him growing a third arm.

He slid his hand up her thigh, moaning into her lips when he didn’t find the familiar threads of any underpants. When had Tina become so bold? Did he even care? She rubbed his cock through his trousers and a resounding no was all the answer he needed. Normally he preferred longer foreplay, more of a chance to enjoy each other’s bodies, but Merlin, with her wet cunt grinding against him he couldn’t wait another second. Neither could Tina. Now it was her fumbling with his buttons like a blushing virgin but fuck it felt so wonderful to have her hands all over him that he didn’t help.

With his trousers unzipped, she ground down on him, both making far more noise than was acceptable for that time of night and for such thin walls. He wanted to ask if she had at least cast a Muffliato at some point, but with Tina fucking him as if the world was set to end tomorrow, he didn’t care. He didn’t care about his knee, he didn’t care about Grindelwald. He didn’t care. He only cared about the venomous tongue pushing through his lips and fighting his own to the same hard rhythm she set against him. It was fast, and hard and definitely fucking by all definitions, but after everything they went through that night, it was also so much more.

He came with a yell, spilling himself inside her in time to feel her throb against him too, her cries of ecstasy no quieter than his. She let all her weight collapse on him, her bruising lips slipping down his cheeks to his neck until she was still again.

They didn’t say much. Not that it was needed.

As with previous nights, Tina’s body did wonders in settling his mind. Each breath warmed the hollow of his neck, a steady rhythm that he too could adapt to. Even though she was deep in sleep, he continued the lazy drag across her back, drawing nameless patterns as the unconscious parts of her relaxed and melted into him. They hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in days and he knew they wouldn’t be able to keep up that pace for too much longer before both their bodies gave up. At least the sex, no matter how quick, did wonders in calming Tina into a deep sleep.

And yet, even under the comfort of his lover’s embrace, Percival could not latch onto sleep. There was always something nudging him awake, creeping into him from just below the surface and tugging at his consciousness.

Almost as if…

Percival opened his eyes and immediately settled them onto the figure sitting at the dining room table, in his seat. The man’s mismatched eyes never left his and it was only when Percival blinked that he realized it was not a hallucination.

With a wand glistening under the moonlight, pointed right to Percival, Grindelwald merely smiled.


	20. The more people you love, the weaker you are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a short chapter. I am incapable of short chapters it seems. Sorry for delay - since we're getting close to the end I want to make sure the quality is on point so it's taking longer to review, but believe it or not most of the next few chapters are partially written and the last chapter is actually 90% done. Some of these next chapters are so dark that I needed to write that last one for my own sake.
> 
> About 6ish chapters left - get ready because the finale is almost here.

He couldn’t reach his wand.

Not without removing his hands from Tina. Not without Grindelwald seeing it.

Percival was suddenly keenly aware of the helpless woman draping him like a blanket and he squeezed her just a little tighter for it. It was such an insignificant action that no normal person would’ve noticed, but Grindelwald pressed a finger to his lips while letting his eyes slide over to a semi-nude Tina, the message quite clear.

This unfinished business was between the two of them. Tina had nothing to do with it, and he’d be damned if anything happened to her or her sister.

There was no easy way to leave, not when he lacked the experience to sneak out of a lover’s embrace or the will to do it. Slowly, with all the affection he could muster, he slipped aside, letting the warm couch swallow her back one limb at a time, each lost point of contact taking away the warmth he never realized he needed. As if sensing his treachery, her hand caught the edge of his lapel, suddenly with an iron-hard grip, and she whimpered, eyes fluttering open for a brief second before falling shut again. Percival froze in place. Grindelwald did not say a word.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the desperate hand that didn’t want to let go. If only she knew how much he didn’t want to leave. “I’m right here. Right here.”

“Mm, rightere,” She repeated, the words lazily rolling off her throat as she tried to cuddle up to his vacating body and he fell in love all over again. “Dongo. Not again.”

He fought back the pain, tucking back loose strands of her hair behind her ear where they settled without a fight. “Never.”

Percival kissed her, far too quickly, with barely any of the smoldering contact and love that he’d come to know in just three days. He wished dearly that he had tasted her lips sooner, and more often and he couldn’t believe he never told her how remarkable she looked under the moonlight, how she didn’t need to be under pounds of make-up to be the woman he valued so dearly. So many things to say – to do – that may never happen. Because he had waited too long.

With another step, her hand could no longer grasp him and it fell, limp against the couch.

He was cold again. He was alone.

Only Grindelwald’s eyes had moved, always following him, always suspicious.

Percival pulled a chair, sliding it so that he was perfectly in between Grindelwald and Tina. In their reality, it didn’t make an ounce of difference; he was a viper without fangs in front of a tiger just itching to pounce. But, for Percival, the gesture meant everything.

“For such a public figure, you are a difficult man to book, Percival Graves,” he said, far above a whisper. Percival’s neck nearly snapped back to see if Tina heard it, but she didn’t stir. A silencing spell, or a stunner. Hard to tell. “Not home, not at your office, so then I thought – where else would MACUSA’s most eligible bachelor rest his head at night?”

“What do you want?”

“Tsk, boy, straight to business - did no one teach you manners?”

Grindelwald raised a hand in the air and Percival flinched, his eyes and mind snapping shut into an impenetrable black hole as he waited for the pain to begin, for the unrelenting force of Grindelwald’s willpower to slash at his mind until he was nothing but a memory of his former self. Until-

There was no pain. Only silence.

“I see you haven’t forgotten about our time together,” he drawled as Percival opened his eyes, hating the smugness in Grindelwald’s. “I almost thought you did, since our little showdown in the warehouse.”

Percival swallowed, trying to regain any composure he’d surely lost so embarrassingly quickly. “You’re a hard man to forget.”

“Quite right,” Grindelwald shook his head, slowly, eyes falling in disappointment. “You are just incapable of keeping your word, aren’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“ _No magic inside the case_. Remember that? Because I do. It was all I could think about when I heard about that little message you sent to your sweetheart,” Grindelwald’s eyes lifted over Percival’s shoulder and he tensed, gripping the table until the splintered pieces pierced his skin, but the pain did nothing to center him. “I thought we were partners.”

“You were arrested. I was left for dead.”

“Please. I would have arranged for someone to take care of you.”

“Like a _fucking_ _dog_.”

“Like a _partner._ ”

Grindelwald stood, fixing his tie before his eyes shifted back to where Tina slept and Percival’s followed. “No,” he grabbed Percival’s hair, twisting it and pulling it up until their eyes met. There was just enough heat flowing into Percival’s scalp, that unmistakable tinge of magic, and he knew immediately he was glued to that chair. “You keep your eyes straight ahead, Percival. You won’t want to see this.”

_Won’t-what?!_

Grindelwald released Percival’s head and stepped around him. To the couch. _To Tina_. And-and there was nothing-he couldn’t even see-he couldn’t-

“ _Gellert_ ,” he growled as the footsteps grew farther and farther away. “I broke that deal. Not her.”

“And here’s what I’ve noticed,” Grindelwald continued, his voice already across the room. It shook him, every bone in his body, and he could do nothing. _Nothing_. “You closed your mind to me, I had to use Cruciatus on you. You tried to escape, I had to break your hands again. It’s clear that punishing _you_ doesn’t work.”

The footsteps stopped, replaced by a soft crunch of that leather couch, of weight sinking into it and now the room was truly void of air. She was unconscious, barely clothed and he was _there_ , next to her, on top of her; he couldn’t even see it, could only _imagine_ what was happening behind him.

“She has very nice hands. Soft, welcoming,” Grindelwald muttered and he was _touching her, he was fucking touching her._ “Should I gift her the same scars I gifted you?”

“ _Stop_.”

“I bet you never even thought about the consequences of your actions, did you?”

“ _I said stop_.” His voice was so meek, so pathetic compared to the confidence Grindelwald carried and that Percival quickly realized he would never have again.

“Of course not. You never stopped to think, ‘ _but Percival, maybe Gellert will be rather upset that you violated his trust again’_ , did you?”

“Don’t do this,” he gasped, not knowing what _this_ was, only knowing it would bring her harm. His heart was pounding in his ears so he could barely hear, his mind a blurring mush of sweet memories of Tina’s warmth and regret for all he didn’t do for them. “Don’t have her pay for my arrogance.”

“Arrogance! Yes, I believe that is the right word. Arrogance,” he sounded all too amused and then fell silent. A second passed, and another, and nothing. What was he doing? _What is he doing?_ “She just _reeks_ of sex, Percival. Was that your doing?”

_He knew, he fucking knew, of course he knew._

Percival did not want to think about how close Grindelwald was to her to be able to make that conclusion, or what he must’ve had his hands on. He shut his eyes tighter, until the world became a sickening blur of various colors and shapes.

“And here I thought you weren’t supposed to fuck your employees. Tell me. What changed?”

“Nothing has changed.”

“Probably realized that was a silly rule. A lot of them are. Do you think your President would agree with your newfound assessment?” He said, ignoring Percival’s response, voice still distant. “Do you think she’d be relieved to find out her right-hand man can’t do magic without a wand without nearly killing himself? That her right-hand man now shares his bed with the woman she demoted?”

“She’d understand.” Percival lied, unsure of why he even bothered.

“Of course she would. It’s why you’ve been so forthcoming with her in the past week.”

The sarcasm dripped from his voice.

There was rustling from the couch; someone was shifting. “It’s alright sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Grindelwald suddenly cooed, sending a shiver through Percival’s every nerve. “Seems she’s got a sensitive spot behind her neck. It’s very nice, without the mess of clothes weighing her down. Slender, regal, a perfect match for such a feisty woman. Makes you just want to bite down and claim her, doesn’t it?”

“ _Don’t hurt her_ ,” Percival roared, tugging at the rage hidden deep inside him. “What the hell do you want?”

“Hurt her? Oh, Percival she’s enjoying this. I bet she thinks it’s you. After all, she didn’t notice the difference for nearly a month. I bet I could fuck her right now and she would still beg for more.”

Now Percival snarled, like a madman, like a _dog_ , fighting the invisible restraints keeping him on that fucking chair, a heavy weight that had him pinned. “I swear if you fucking-”

“You’d do what, exactly? You’d watch, Percival. You’d watch every second of me turning your woman into a common whore. Because you can’t stop me. _And you know it_.”

There was that distinct sound of metal against metal, of trousers being undone-

“ _Gellert!_ ” Percival launched himself against his binds because that was not going to happen to her, not while he was there, not ever, but it did _nothing_. Not even an inch of him moved, his neck still craned up to the ceiling. _“What the fuck do you want?”_

“I wonder,” Grindelwald ignored him, the couch crunching under renewed pressure; of a heavy man adjusting himself; he just _knew_. “Does it torment you that you can’t see this spectacle? Or would it be worse if I were to turn you around to witness all of it?”

“You’re insane.” Percival spat, every muscle twitching and aching to burst free.

“Pick one.”

“Just tell me what you want. Just-”

“Pick one or I’ll wake her up right now-”

“No! NO!”

“-And you can hear her cry out for your help, can watch hope leave her eyes as she realizes that I am not a gentle man and that her lover is not coming to her rescue. No one is.”

His veins were ready to burst from struggle, from panic and he couldn’t speak; could only muster a sorry sob that shook in his throat. Making a choice meant admitting that it was going to happen. That it was a forgone conclusion and that there was nothing he could say to convince Grindelwald against it. That Tina was going to be violated in her own living room and there was nothing he could do. _Nothing._

“Percival-”                                               

“Turn me around.” Percival snarled, so primal and desperate and out of control. Everything he never thought he would be.

“A voyeur? I am still learning so much about you Mr. Graves.”

“I want to see what you do,” he breathed, vision doubling in rage, fingers itching to release a blast powerful enough to level all of Manhattan. “So I can do the same to you.”

And Grindelwald _laughed_. He fucking laughed, mocking _him_ , mocking _her_. The second he got out of that chair he would rip the bastard’s tongue out with his hands, he didn’t know how, but he would cause him so much pain.

The chair turned, slowly, painfully slowly, and Percival kept his eyes shut as wood scraped against wood. He didn’t want to see this, but if Tina was going to suffer, then he would be there with her. Not hiding behind fear or cowardice.

With that, he opened his eyes.

Grindelwald sat on the couch, legs crossed. Clothed. At the opposite end from Tina, who still laid on her stomach with her hand outstretched for him, just the way he left her. A peaceful, sleeping angel with not a care in the world.

“Wh-what?”

He walked back to Percival, a maddening calmness in his eyes that spoke of a man who was done playing with his toys. Each step was precise, booming against the sudden silence that had befallen the room. Grindelwald gripped Percival’s hair again, pulling him forward – to the floor, to his knees, _where you belong,_ he reminded himself. It was only then, trying to balance himself that he noticed how violently his whole body was still shaking under Grindelwald’s towering figure.

It was only then that he noticed how cold and wet the front of his trousers had become.

“I want you to understand something,” Grindelwald spoke softly, clicking his tongue against his cheek. “I want you to understand all that I can take away from you. I want you to understand just how _little_ you can do about it. And, perhaps this is the most important part – I _need_ you to understand what I chose _not_ to do this evening,” his voice grew quieter still, chilling the room as if the windows had been thrown open. “Is that clear?”

Percival shied away from the man’s icy stare, hands now glued to his thighs and unable to move. The all too familiar odor reeking of waste and fear and desperation crawled up from his crotch, a stark reminder of how little progress he’d made since Tina freed him that fateful evening. He’d failed to keep her from death then, and he just failed again. She was alive because Grindelwald allowed it. He just couldn’t protect her.

He couldn’t protect anyone.

“Don’t cry now, _love_ ,” Grindelwald mocked, pressing his thumb against Percival’s lips hard enough to bruise. “I haven’t even asked anything of you yet.”

Kneeling there, on the merciless floor that tore at his knee, his whole body had gone slack and would’ve collapsed if not for Grindelwald’s grip. How ironic, that his tormentor was both responsible for causing his body to go boneless and for keeping him from crashing on the floor under the weight of his failure. Because there was nothing left, only a numbness that silenced his body. His fight had evaporated, the only sign it ever existed now reeking on the front of his trousers. Gone.

He had never felt more _tired_.

He tried to look at Tina, who had remained untouched and oblivious to the murderer in her living room. The things he would’ve given just to be back on that couch with her, warming each other in a cold winter night and ignoring any work alarms or any other facet of the life he used to have. Eventually they’d wake, groggy but satisfied, spending far too much time on their backs before getting on with their day. To just be _loved_ and to finally love someone in return. What would he give to be there?

What _wouldn’t_ he give?

Fighting against the nagging thumb on his lips, Percival gathered whatever strength was left and found his voice. Quiet and defeated, but his. “What do you want?”

“ _You_ want to be on that couch with her, don’t you, Percival?”

“Yes.” His voice shook and he didn’t know why it was so hard to admit it out loud.

“You want to be able to take her out on a Saturday evening, like sweethearts. A fancy dinner made up of expensive wine and whispering sweet nothings into her ear amidst a crowd of people who could never understand what you two have. Not caring what the rest of the world thinks.”

“Yes.” He bit his tongue as water blurred his vision. Fuck, what a mess he’d become that night. What a bumbling mess.

“I want that too,” Grindelwald said it so softly that Percival jerked his head back up in surprise. “On Friday, you have that blasted hearing. Do you really think winning your job back for good will solve this?”

His job. Of course that’s what he wanted. To break Percival Graves to the point where he’d easily and willingly give his job up and fucking hell he was doing a phenomenal job at it so far.

“You want me to throw everything away.”

“Not quite. No. I want you and Ms. Goldstein to stop. Tomorrow, I want you two to go to work, do whatever routine it is you lot have for the rest of the day – paperwork, training, I don’t care. Then, you two can have a nice dinner. The date you crave so much – work your magic. Eat and drink to your heart’s content, go home and fuck her until she bucks you off. Have fun.”

He paused a moment, and Percival looked back at the lady that deserved so much more than what he was giving.

“On Friday morning, you will renounce your position. You will tell them you are incapable of continuing with your duties and you will retire, a hero. Someone who fought and gave so much for his country but will now return to the countryside and collect that hefty pension for the rest of his life.

“And then leave. I don’t care where you go. Your house, the other side of the country, Europe. Leave and do not return, Percival.”

“She’ll never back down.”

Percival couldn’t believe the words rolling off his lips. It was as if he’d already considered the maddening idea and somehow accepted it, with Tina being the only one still rational enough to counter it. But if it meant her safety, her _happiness_ -

“Then don’t tell her,” he shrugged, dragging his thumb across Percival’s cheek, where it settled just beneath his ear. Those cold hands just felt so wrong against him. So unlike Tina’s caress. “Lie, Percival. Lie like your life, and hers, depends on it. Now, this is the last warning I will ever issue you. Do you understand?”

Grindelwald now had both hands around Percival’s jaws, his grip hard enough to twist his neck until it snapped. He didn’t understand why Grindelwald didn’t do just that. None of this made sense. But there was only one answer. “Yes,” he whispered, wanting to disapparate himself and Tina into anywhere in the world. Grindelwald raised a brow, as if expecting more. “I understand.”

“Good. Because if you break your word to me this time, Percival, I will have no mercy left for either of you. I will force you to watch as I tear her apart, piece by piece, until there’s only the slightest string of life keeping her conscious. And then, only after you’ve had enough time to realize how utterly useless you are, will I allow you to die.”

He could see it. He could _feel_ it; every second of her suffering, of her unanswered screams for him. It couldn’t happen. It wasn’t going to happen.

A lone tear escaped the corner of his eye and now both hands left him but he was no colder for it.

“Remember, Percival. I can take everything away from you. Just. Like. _That._ ”

Grindelwald snapped his fingers and the world collapsed.

\--

He was drowning.

Percival lunged into darkness, grabbing and taking, but nothing and everything enveloped him all at once. A black void that swallowed him whole. He was at sea, and he was flying, and _fuck he couldn’t breathe_!

Somewhere-somewhere in the distance, a voice. A woman’s voice. But what was she saying, and-and, _he couldn’t breathe, he was going to die, oh Merlin-_

“Sweetie?”

Percival grasped at the mysterious voice and jerked upwards, colliding with something hard and that yelled as loud as the waves slamming into his skull.

The sun was pouring through the thin curtains, flooding him and the startled blonde with more light than he could handle and he quickly shut his eyes again. He mouthed an apology after another, still gasping in air as if it would leave him if he didn’t. It was worse than any hangover, worse than waking up in that cold hospital room alone after Tina rescued him.

With her name came an image of her limp body, sleeping, with a familiar man looming over her and Percival choked as it all came back to him at once.

“Queenie,” he finally said, still hoarse from sleep. He palmed his thigh, feeling only slightly relieved to find the familiar press of his wand cutting into muscle. “Where’s Tina?”

The world was still upside down, a mess of colors and sounds and too much.

Queenie was fixing the curls that must’ve taken forever to get just right. She was already all dolled up, donning a bright violet skirt that stopped just above the knee. Her blouse, once a shade of pink he couldn’t care to name, now had a woefully large brown spot by her stomach and it was then that he noticed the cracked coffee mug by his feet.

“She headed out a little early – wanted to get a head start on you guy’s mission,” Queenie responded as if he hadn’t nearly knocked her senseless, picking up the pieces scattered on the rug. “You were so tired we wanted to let you sleep in a little.”

“She went out already? Alone?” Percival pushed himself off the couch, the scattered images of Grindelwald’s malicious stare flooding into his mind. “But-no. How long ago?”

“About a half hour – sweetie what’s wrong? Was it a dream?”

“No,” he gasped, grasping at where he’d pissed himself but finding no smell or stains or any sign of that embarrassment. The dining room chairs were still exactly where they’d left them – facing the table. The spot where he’d dug his nails in until they bled showed no sign of being touched by human hands – even his hands had no markings or even a scratch. “I don’t know. I don’t-”

“It’s alright, hon, sit down.”

“No I can’t-I-fuck.”

“Would some cocoa help? Or maybe another cup of coffee?”

She was still stripping away the coffee from her blouse and the couch and fucking everywhere.

Everything felt wrong, so, so wrong and his gut clenched at the sights that had happened-that hadn’t happened? There was a wild need to get the hell out of the cramped space, to go somewhere – anywhere else and just _breathe_ , just collect himself. Whatever was still left of himself.

“If there was someone else, here, last night,” Percival sounded insane; Queenie must’ve been having second thoughts about him dating her sister. “Would you have heard them?”

“If I’m sleeping? Well, only if it’s particularly loud.”

“Loud?”

“Yeah,” she was already pouring him another cup of coffee. “Emotions and thoughts go hand-in-hand. So, if someone’s really excited or scared then it feels like they’re just screamin’ it out loud and that can wake me up.”

Grindelwald was always calm and composed, the man Percival always thought himself to be. Queenie probably wouldn’t have been able to hear a peep from him, but, from Percival himself she must’ve been able to sense him. His panic had been palpable, something unlike anything else he’d ever felt in his life.

“I would’ve heard you, hon,” Queenie smiled as she handed him the scalding mug, no cream or sugar, as he wanted it. “If-if everything you had dreamt had really happened, I would’ve been awake faster than Tina on a Monday.”

She said the last bit with some trepidation, unease suddenly in her eyes and Percival could only imagine the glimpses he accidentally released to her.

“Fuck,” Percival breathed. “I don’t know, Queenie. I don’t know.”

“Alright, then how the heck did he get in without you hearin’ it?”

A pause. His mind was on fire with every training manual he’d read – and written – at MACUSA.

Apparition was normally loud. Percival would’ve heard a pop, even if he had been asleep. The girls had a fireplace, but even floo was rather noisy and messy and he would’ve woken up the whole household.

Percival blew the steam from the top of his mug before drinking it in, finding the scalding liquid far more soothing than alcohol. The only other real possibility, without any noise, would’ve been if Grindelwald had been in the apartment the whole time. Now _that_ was a terrifying idea, he thought, cradling his mug just a little harder. It was more than that; it was disturbing, to think Grindelwald had been there while they were on the couch together enjoying each other’s bodies in what they thought was complete privacy. But what else could it be?

Maybe Queenie was right. He’d had regular nightmares before Grindelwald – ones with made up horrors instead of just a reliving of what he already experienced. It made sense for them to make a return, all featuring his greatest fears in the world; fears he spent so many years hiding from in the lonely safety of his office. At least, since Tina burst into his life with the reckless abandon she was known for.

He sat back down at the table, clinging to the coffee as if it gave him life. It had to have been a dream. If Grindelwald wanted his orders obeyed then why the hell would he make Percival think it was a dream? It didn’t make any sense, but, then again, none of it ever did. Grindelwald enjoyed playing with his food before eating it, and this could very well be that. Another test, another way to see just how arrogant Percival truly was.

_“Arrogance! Yes, I believe that is the right word. Arrogance_.”

Or, just a dream.

Just a dream.

Just…

A deep breath. _I am Percival Graves._

He finished the rest of the coffee, the hot liquid burning his tongue but he ignored it.

“Do you want some more?”

“I’m fine.” He said, handing the mug back to her. Wand in hand, Queenie was still pulling out the nasty stain from her blouse, the liquid twirling across the room in a ribbon before falling into the sink. All his fault, because he couldn’t control himself-

“It’s nothing sweetie, Tina’s done worse.”

“She has nightmares?”

Guilt again. He always hoped his Aurors would say something if the outcome of a mission had them a little rattled (he didn’t want to say traumatized), but he never heard a peep. Not from Tina, not from any of them. Then again, he had a nasty habit of being overly harsh to his Aurors, and, thinking back to his old self, he couldn’t blame them for their silence.

“Oh,” she suddenly gasped, a quick frown ghosting over her face as she must’ve realized she shouldn’t have said that little fact. “Not always, but, they happen. Usually about somethin’ you guys do that, well, doesn’t go as _smoothly_ as she thought it would.”

“And?”

“That’s it.” She turned her back to him, facing a stack of dishes that had now become important.

“Queenie.” Percival crossed his arms, the question prominent in his mind: _were any of them about Grindelwald as me?_

“She had a nightmare or two about that,” she admitted. “But, never that bad.”

“About the death cells?”

He already knew the answer. Queenie’s entire face sunk again but she nodded.

“She never told me.” Percival mumbled, more to himself than anything.

“Because she knows it wasn’t you,” she said quickly. “She didn’t want you thinkin’ she was scared of you or somethin’ so she hid it. You know, you two deserve each other.”

_That, they did_ , Percival thought. It was strange, feeling all the warmth that came with someone wanting to care for him and protect _him_ for a change. He still wasn’t sure he deserved it.

A part of him desperately wanted to believe that what he saw was a dream. Well, a particularly large part of him. That same part was dying for him to call off the mission and get Tina back to the apartment and hold her until they were both obscenely late for work. Hell, maybe they would never make it in. His heart just screamed at him to make that decision, the ‘safe’ one that could never result in any harm to either of them.

Fuck, he was a mess, in mind and body. Old Percival would’ve been scolding new Percival over the mere idea of wearing the same suit for two days in a row. And that didn’t even take into account his hair – Merlin, his hair. Without any product on hand, it merely hung loose, falling to the sides and into his eyes in a sloppy mess his father would’ve frowned at. That was if he wasn’t already turning his nose up at the stubble covering every inch of his jaw like the beginnings of an untamed jungle. _Percival Graves, unhinged indeed_ , he thought with a wry smile, adjusting his tie as if it would somehow make him presentable.

“You’re too hard on yourself. The rugged look fits you.”

He glared at her for a brief moment, yet not in an unkind way. _Hm, rugged_. Now that was a word he never used to describe himself. Though Tina deserved better than just rugged-

“Oh no, she likes it a lot; thinks it adds a little color.”

“My thoughts aren’t safe around you, are they?”

“A man in love is the loudest of them all,” she smirked. “It’s really hard to tune you out.”

_Sorry?_

“Nah, it’s alright, honey. Did you want anything else for breakfast?”

“I don’t think I can handle more than coffee right now,” he said, unsure if the ache in his stomach was from hunger or fear. “But, thank you.”

“Alrighty, well, if you change your mind the pantry’s yours. The front door will lock behind you-”

“You’re leaving?” It came out far more pathetic than he wanted it to.

He couldn’t remember the last time he sounded so fucking needy.

“Yeah, Abernathy’s been on my case lately so I’m gonna head off a little early. But I’ll see you there.”

“Wait, Queenie,” he said, feeling so silly and old fashioned for what he was about to ask. Even she seemed a little confused about the mess of questions floating in his head, unbound and confused. “You’re alright, with me and Tina?”

_You don’t think I’m too old for her?_

_That I’m too scarred?_

_That she’d get hurt just because of who I am?_

Fucking Merlin he sounded like an Ilvermorny boy meeting the parents. When had he become so dull?

“If she had brought anyone else home last night, I wouldn’t have made them cocoa,” she said in such a confident manner he could never doubt her sincerity, though he wondered what cocoa had to do with it. “And, just so you know, she doesn’t care too much about fancy dinners and the like. If you want to make her happy, take her to that house in Colorado and she’ll be over the moon.”

“Hm,” he smiled. “That’s a bit far.”

“Or a walk through central park. She’ll take that and a hot dog any day of the week, trust me.”

Queenie flashed him another reassuring nod before warning about the landlady who forbid men – a certain Ms. Esposito? Tina had mentioned something when they were coming in but he thought it was an exaggeration. What an odd place for these two girls to live. They really did deserve so much better.

With all company gone, the lazy thoughts of strolling through the dense trees in that little Colorado town quickly became clouded by his apprehension towards their current mission. He knew, after every fucking thing, that Grindelwald was not one to be trifled with. If the man had sworn to hurt Tina just to spite him, Percival had not a shred of doubt in his mind that the man was sadistic enough to do it. That is, if he had actually said it. If he had actually been at the apartment.

Fuck.

They still had time. It wasn’t too late to call the whole thing off.

Percival pulled the mirror to Tina out of his pocket and stared at his sorry reflection with a sigh.

\--

The Big Over-Easy had been an Auror staple since the MACUSA offices moved to New York. Everything was relatively cheap – never more than a couple dragots for a full meal – and the food was at least cooked, even in the oddest hours of the day. But, perhaps most alluring part for even the most uptight MACUSA officials were the various game rooms in the back. They were seedy places to kick back with even the most annoying coworkers, with bad food that was bad _for_ you (as Queenie often scolded), and even lower quality gigglewater that was more likely to make you sick than drunk.

“Take a seat wherever,” the resident goblin shouted, a half-smoked cigar hanging out the side of his mouth, his voice gravelly from years of daily smoking and who knew what else. He stood tall behind a counter displaying all sort of stale sweets and baked goods, probably standing on a well-placed box. “You been ‘ere before sweetheart?”

It was then that Tina realized she had never learned his name.

“Yeah, I know how it works, Mister…?”

He had already gone back to polishing a glass before she even finished her sentence, probably never intending to help her even if she was a newcomer. One of the men sitting at the counter, a plate with pancakes stacked a foot in the air in front of him, whispered something to him and he choked out a gurgled laugh.

Tina took a seat in the back, a tiny booth made for two that gave her plenty of opportunities to see who took a turn into the narrow hall across the room. The hall was a maze, normally only leading to the kitchens and the restrooms and quite a few dead-ends, but whispering the right word or phrase to the cocky goblin she greeted would cause another door to be visible only to them, somewhere within the maze. Only the person with the code would be able to enter, as Tina had found out the hard way on a stakeout.

Like every other New York joint, it was narrow and filled to the brim, with most tables so close to one another that it was impossible to keep secrets for too long. Just in her general vicinity she had two typists sharing a bagel – which is crazy because she could eat a whole one alone – and to her right a lonely man with his nose buried within _The New York Ghost_. Even then she could hear the conversations going on beyond those tables, and if she could hear that, then they’d be able to hear her and Percival. With that, Tina lowered the volume on the glass necklace dangling below her neck to no more than whisper. Just in case.

“I’d like a cup of coffee, two sugars please.” Tina said into the spotted tablecloth, dropping a dragot into the ashtray where it clinked a few times before vanishing, a pristine white coffee mug appearing in its place.

It was not the best coffee in the world, as the crudely written sign outside claimed. It was quite average, bordering on bad and bitter, with a lingering aftertaste that had Tina ordering some scrambled eggs right away. If that was their strategy for increasing food sale, then it was brilliant. And if it wasn’t, well, then after all of this was over she would consider whether a fine for false advertising would be too harsh.

Tina looked down at the hastily scribbled notes on her lap, the first triumph of the day, and smiled. She didn’t want to leave Percival alone on that couch, but she had a very good reason for sneaking out before he woke up.

_(“Jacobs!” Tina shouted down the hall of the infirmary at the older gentleman scurrying away from her. “Alow Jacobs – I need a word with you.”_

_“Currently needed in Memory Recovery, Ms. Goldstein, we must wait for another time.”_

_Holding the bone-shaped bottle she had snuck out of Percival’s jacket, Tina smiled. “Well next time I suppose we can also discuss how you’ve been giving untested samples of Potions to MACUSA’s most valuable officers?”)_

It was comical, really, to see him actively trying to decide whether he should run faster or try to talk his way out of it. Not one to be a quiet little mouse, Tina had made the whole spectacle loud enough that all of the surrounding Healers and even their near unconscious patients perked up to listen in. At that point, with Tina waving the disturbingly shaped bottle in the air, he had no choice.

The good news was that Percival’s curse could, in theory, be transferred again to another ‘host’. The bad news was that both curses were now intertwined, two parasitic beings feeding off Percival’s energy. The only way to take one out would be to take the other with it, and no one could figure out exactly how to remove or even so much as transfer Grindelwald’s curse. According to Jacobs, it had woven its way around the bones of Percival’s hands, tying itself like a sturdy rope, the scars atop his hands acting as a map to where each ‘string’ was located just beneath the surface.

Or so was the theory, anyway.

“…But it’s never gonna happen. Not with Graves at the head.”

Tina’s ears perked at the mention of a very familiar name. It was the table with the typists – the woman speaking had lips red as a ruby, standing out against her doll-like skin that shone like porcelain against the rising sun.

“Nah, Graves ain’t like that. He’s a good man – saved my sister’s life.” The brown-skinned typist replied. Tina couldn’t see her face but it must’ve been Patterson’s sister. She had only talked to her a few times – she kept to the typist pool - but the voice was unmistakable.

“He’s in with Grindelwald, Jenny. I just know it.”

“They found him completely disheveled in his own home, reeking of garbage. Goodness knows what hell the man probably went through – in the hands of Grindelwald himself.”

“It’s a cover they made up. I mean, do you really trust Goldstein? The disgraced Auror who got demoted also ‘happens’ to be the one who finds him? I bet they’re in it together.”

_Disgraced Auror?!_ If Tina hadn’t been in disguise in the middle of a major bust she would slap that smirk right off her face.

“You’ve been reading those trashy newspapers too much, Colleen,” Patterson’s sister – Jenny – said. “Goldstein and Graves have both helped my sister out so much.”

“Also a part of their cover,” she said quickly, waving the bagel around wildly in the air and making her look psychotic. “I hope they get rid of him tomorrow, he certainly-”

“Hello there, ladies,” a couple of men came through the crowded tables, both with their hats in hand. Judging by the badges hanging from their coat pockets and shabby suits, they were Obliviators. “May Todd and I join you?”

“Sure, Sam,” Colleen smiled at the arrogant one, letting them squeeze into the booth where they sat shoulder to shoulder. It must not have been comfortable and Jenny didn’t seem thrilled about the arrangement but she moved to make room for the unnamed man anyway. “We’re just talking about Graves.”

“That sad sap? I almost feel bad for the bloke. I heard he fell apart on one of their missions last week. Just dropped on his knees and sobbed like a baby.”

That was not what happened!

“And then he killed a kid in a bathroom this week,” the burly man next to Jenny – Todd – chuckled, his voice grating. “They should’ve replaced him the minute they found him.”

“He just can’t handle it anymore. Probably cries himself to sleep from nightmares,” Sam continued, wrapping an arm around Colleen and she shot him a devilish smile that had Tina reeling. “Sometimes you just gotta put an old dog down, y’know?”

Tina squeezed her mug so hard it nearly exploded in her hands. How dare they! Percival put himself through hours of torture nearly every day to protect people like him; he was _still_ suffering trying to protect their community. And this was the thanks he got. A bunch of cocky nobodies dragging his name through the dirt just to feel a little superior. They wouldn’t have lasted a day with Grindelwald.

“I can’t believe we all used to have crushes on him once,” she looked up at Jenny at that and Tina was shocked and disappointed the young witch hadn’t stood up for Percival – not even once since the men arrived. “I feel sorry for whoever ends up with him. Can you imagine? I’d just do it for the money, take whatever I can, then go marry a real man.”

_Percival is a real man_ , Tina wanted to yell.

Instead, she took a breath. As hard as it was to hear, she knew the truth, and at the end of the day people like Colleen would never be lucky enough to find a man as caring and devoted as Percival.

“Personally, I like people who don’t let themselves get captured. How embarrassing.” Todd continued and they all laughed.

Idiots. All idiots. To think he'd gone through all that just to protect-

“Tina?” His voice suddenly whispered from her chest and Tina quickly raised all the notes from Jacobs to cover her face and muffle their voices – as sorry as an attempt as that was.

Regardless, she was far too thrilled to hear from him, and that Queenie didn’t let him oversleep.

“Morning, sleepy-head,” she whispered back. “How are you feeling?”

“You took my potion.” He didn’t sound completely upset.

“I don’t want you drinking that stuff, it messes with your eye and who knows what else. Did you take the replacement I left you?”

“Yes,” now he sounded a little annoyed. “It’s taking its sweet time to work.”

“But it will work.”

He fell silent. The table in front of her continued blabbering on about something unimportant – Quodpotc– but the place was filling up, all tables taken now. A couple of people were at the counter. One of the rookie Obliviators Tina had seen back when they first captured Grindelwald stepped away from it, quickly looking both ways before slipping into the dark maze all the way at the other end. He’d left his coffee mug still steaming, the bagel half-eaten but not one other soul seemed to notice the odd behavior.

Tina checked the clock on the wall – fifteen minutes to eight. It had begun.

“We should regroup.”

“Percival, you’re kidding.”

“I think we’re rushing this just for the sake of the hearing. It’s not right.”

“We’re not rushing, we’re stopping Grindelwald from coming into power. Sometimes we don’t always have all the pieces, but we have to take action. You always said-”

“I know, but this is different. This…”

He trailed off, saddened and certainly concerned. There was just enough of a tremble when he spoke, the distant sound of fingers tapping on a desk.

“I know you’re worried,” she started, slowly, with the knowledge that his intentions were in the right place. “But he won’t stop unless we shut him down. This is our chance, love.”

“We’ll have more chances. It doesn’t have to be today.”

Another man standing by the counter, a MACUSA badge hanging loosely off his belt, also surveyed his surroundings before heading to the back hallway. The clock on the wall was already making it clear that if she didn’t move soon they’d be late.

“I’ll be fine. I stocked up with supplies at MACUSA before coming.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, the sorrow growing heavier. “The things he can do; that he wants to do. All _for the greater good_.”

Grindelwald’s words at the end were enough to cause a shudder to run up her spine.

He wasn’t making any sense. Something had Percival rattled enough to want to throw away a mission. This wasn’t normal. It wasn’t him.

“We’ll stop him. He won’t hurt anyone – or me. And I have you on my corner in case anything goes wrong.”

“From all the way over here? I’m useless to you. I can’t-I can’t save you.”

“You’re the one bringing in the cavalry! You’re the one who had the mind to set this up, to plan it, and to fight it. You’re a fighter and I know you’ll-”

“Cut the bullshit, Tina,” he sounded exhausted. “It’s getting tiring.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not this knight in shining armor you try to make me into. I'm not a hero. I’m just not.”

“I see you for who you’ve forgotten to be-”

“For who you _want_ me to be,” Percival said, his raised voice tainted with anguish. “That man doesn’t exist anymore. He’s gone – he died in that briefcase, and it’s about time you realized that the man you love _doesn’t exist_ ,” there was a pause. “Now, come home. _Please._ ”

The words stung. Grindelwald still managed to sneak his way into Percival’s subconscious and continued to gnaw at him, turning him into his own greatest nemesis. Unlike Percival, she knew that this wasn’t really him speaking. Fear had twisted him.

He deserved better. Tina folded the notes from Jacobs and tucked it into her coat pocket. She would untwist the damage Grindelwald had one – one step at a time.

There was another woman coming up to the goblin, whispering that sweet password to him before taking off to the maze. Probably another typist, judging by the triangular hat hiding her hair.

They had less than two minutes before this spontaneous meeting begun and she needed to be in there before it did.

She took a deep breath.

She cursed the drinks of the disloyal typists to burn their lips on contact.

And she stood.

Because while Percival didn't believe that he was any good, she knew better. While the buffoons on the table in front of her thought him weak, a possible traitor, and a sob, she knew better. They had come up empty handed all week, drawing nothing but doubts, but it would all change. They would corner the MACUSA turncoats and catch Grindelwald with his tail tucked between his legs, and Percival would have his job back. The world had sought to take everything from him in that last month but she wasn't going to stand for it. Not anymore.

This would all end now.

“Bring the Aurors.”

Her last words before muting the damn thing and heading over to the nameless goblin who still ignored most of his patrons, operating in near privacy within such a busy place. He only bothered looking in her direction once she leaned into the counter like some kind of brute, or the type of person who frequented those back rooms.

Percival’s words were still hot on her mind.

“Can I help-”

“For the greater good.” Tina whispered, not an inch of doubt on her mind about the password.

The goblin raised his brow, and nodded.

\--

What the fuck had he done?

Who the fuck was he becoming?

Percival slammed the mirror into the table, the brusque action miraculously not breaking either item.

After everything, everything they had been through, he was ready to throw it all away in the name of keeping her from harm.

Aurors put themselves into harm’s way every day. It was a part of the job – the very first fucking line in the job description. The first thing he told every rookie and every trainee; that they had to be willing to go willingly into the flames if it meant saving civilian lives, if it meant stopping a mass murderer, if it meant doing better for their community. Percival knew that going out every damn day meant that he may not come back. All of his Aurors knew. It was their job.

Tina was doing her job and he couldn’t take it.

He wasn’t scared. He was terrified.

_It’s a dream, Percival, it’s just a dream._

_My name is Percival Graves and I am an Auror._

It wasn’t that Tina couldn’t take care of herself. If was that he couldn’t take care of her.

He hadn’t been old enough to protect his parents. He hadn’t been experienced enough to protect his old partner. They all laid dead, avenged, but dead, because he hadn’t been ready.

Now Percival had no excuse. How could he just sit there? But how could he interfere when she was merely doing her job?

_Fuck._

It was just a fucking dream and he needed to get over it.

They had accumulated pounds – literal pounds – of notes on Grindelwald and his followers. This was the culmination of all that work. All of the interrogations that Tina and the Aurors carried out with the captured fanatics who thought they were at the Berkshires. There must’ve been hundreds of pages dedicated to just that, a nightmare to sort through and an even bigger one to read. Another stack of research on probable meeting locations Grindelwald would dare use in New York – Tina’s diligent work from Monday. Explanations on the ‘Deathly Hallows’ symbol, as Tina had scribbled. Notes from the Tracing team on what they found in Lopez’s apartment that night where everything went wrong. And, on the bottom of the pile, looking like it had been hastily hidden – notes from him. Personal notes, from a paper mouse.

In his handwriting. In his signature.

He hadn’t written Tina any memos or any notes.

_“Pretty good, right? Took me forever to get your lower case ‘r’ right, looks like a v. Let me tell you, your handwriting is the worst I have ever seen. Would’ve gotten you expelled at Durmstrang.”_

Grindelwald’s voice from a month ago echoed in his head.

Grindelwald wasn’t in London.

He’d been in America. In MACUSA. In the apartment.

He knew where the vanishing cabinet was. He knew about Travers.

Which-

That meant-no _. No!_

_Tina was walking into a trap._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter - Action, action, action. And the emotional stuff. Actually, get your Percival Graves embroidered handkerchief ready because you will need it for most of the final ride.


	21. The Sinking of the Titanic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RUN, TINA, RUN!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a beast and was so much fun to write. Hope you guys enjoy reading it just as much!
> 
> I will say there is a minor non-con warning here. I say minor because it's very short and barely anything happens but it's still terrifying for the character. If you'd rather not put yourself in that position, stop reading when you get to "by all accounts" and start again when you get to "a blur of black"
> 
> Oh, and if you're a Tarantino fan who watched Hateful Eight, dropped a little easter egg about halfway through

Tina had just barely stepped into the corridor before whispering a Disillusionment Charm over herself, the magic washing over her skin like summer rain and leaving her image a mere memory. The disguise might have been convincing enough out there, in the diner, but being invisible was a much better alternative. A much safer one, anyway.

 _Always know your outs_ , Percival’s words echoed through her head as she took note of the swinging door leading to the kitchens, a mess of house elves running about. She had every ounce of confidence that he would come through when they needed it most, but preparation was key and backup plans were a necessity. Another golden nugget he had always drummed into their heads. Tina passed the bathrooms next, barely dodging a pudgy older gentleman with suspenders nearly snapping at the shoulders. He slammed the door open in his hasty exit and it re-opened shortly after, with more caution, to reveal a blonde of questionable morals slipping out next, her eyes searching wildly for any witnesses as she adjusted the hem of her skirt.

Tina could only roll her eyes.

Soon there were no signs of people. As she made her way through the winding turns of the maze, each breath brought a white mist that hovered in front of her a moment before disappearing, the sudden chill having her grasping at her own arms. It wasn’t meant to be a warm and inviting place, given how most patrons who often went this far into it were anything but warm and friendly, and neither were their intentions. There wasn’t even a real light source; none that she could see but it was still somehow illuminated.

She touched the glass dangling between her breasts. Percival probably had been through these halls before on many a stealth mission, usually drug busts or smuggling rings hidden behind secret doorways. If anyone could offer a re-assuring word or a useful tip, it would be him. Tina clutched the necklace a little harder, her lips pursed, ready to un-mute it and bring him back to life as she walked the void.

_“…and it’s about time you realize that the man you love doesn’t exist…”_

_Oh, Percival, what has he done to you?_ Tina shuddered, chest clenching as her grip loosened, lighter and lighter, until the glass fell through her fingers like sand, swinging lifelessly again.

Hour after hour of watching him squirm under Crucio, his voice degrading to croaked whispers not just from screams of pain but from sobbed pleas of forgiveness for his failures in keeping MACUSA safe. Nearly a whole month of being brought to his knees, and then the second he makes it back home, where he belongs, where his ‘family’ is, they threaten to take that from him too; his ‘family’s’ rejection possibly even more painful than anything Grindelwald inflicted.

And yet, with everything falling apart, they found each other and Tina was no fool. She knew that after losing so much, Percival couldn’t stand the thought of losing her too and she understood; she did. The idea of that freakish curse that he pulled from her body like poison taking him away brought more pain to her heart than she was ready to admit. She knew the pain he feared. Yet, at the same time, if they pulled off this mission as intended, it could all be over, and their next night together wouldn’t yield even a second of worrying about Grindelwald and his cronies. They could just be a regular couple, with pillow talk that didn’t center on traitors and murder.

It was almost hard to believe that there _was_ a time where that blonde-haired maniac wasn’t on their minds.

She turned another sharp corner, mind still buzzing as-

A red door.

A darker red than blood. Freshly painted, and so vibrant that it could leak out into her skin with a mere touch. It stood, bright, at the end of the hall as if the sun itself was shining right on it.

Her vision blurred at the edges, just a bit, as she stood closer to the ominous portal. An intended effect imbued into the door or her own fears coming to life, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t too late to turn back, to go home to Percival yet it was at the same time. She wanted the nightmares – both real and in the depths of sleep – to end. Wanted their courtship to actually begin. And this was their chance.

But with the stakes so high, so were the risks, and she found herself withdrawing from that damn door.

_(“You can’t let it rattle you,” Graves threw his coat over Tina’s shivering shoulders as the surrounding Aurors finished making the arrests, even in the middle of a thunderstorm. “You won’t always know what’s behind a door, or what’s around a corner. It’s why you approach it carefully, why we plan it out in advance.”_

_“I know, but-”_

_“No buts,” he sighed. “We didn’t become Aurors because it’s an easy paycheck. Hell, it's barely a paycheck," he chuckled. "I know it’s intimidating, but you can't let your fear get the best of you. It hurts the whole team. What would’ve happened if I wasn’t behind you?”_

_“It would be me in that body-bag.” The words were sobering, and Graves, realizing it, laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder._

_A faint, but sad smile tugged at his lip. “Promise me you’ll never do that again.”_

_Tina took a deep breath, the worst-case scenario he alluded to playing in her mind but she nodded. “I promise.”)_

With a deep breath, she wrapped her hand around the equally red knob, hot to the touch and unlike any metal she knew, and turned, a million spells ready in her mind to counter one or one-hundred, a handbag equipped with a slew of weapons and equipment to handle anything.

But, only a quiet study greeted her. Exactly as boring as she imagined Percival’s would be, with a quaint fireplace, flames roaring low in the corner, like the inside of a Victorian novel. The rest of the walls were lined with bookshelves – safe for an arched doorway - all encircling a heavy-looking wooden desk, with its decorated legs and polished surface. Likely pricier than her – and Queenie’s - paycheck could afford. There was an open book at its center, also heavy and worn with years of a writer’s toil. _The Sinking of the Titanic_ was embossed on the front in fading gold letters, the bookmark left on one specific chapter: A Tribute to Man’s Arrogance.

She remembered it from the news; a no-maj ship deemed unsinkable met its end many years ago. Seeing no significance, and a wide-open doorway, Tina trudged on.

The narrow passageway gave way to stone steps heading down, a few torches barely visible as the stairs rounded aside and the bottom disappeared from view. They must have been leading deep underground, the increasingly humid air being far too suffocating but she persisted, keeping her feet light as a boxer (as Percival once said with a grin) as to not draw even the slightest attention to herself and whatever hid beneath that staircase.

When the steps finally gave way to solid ground again, all stone, she found herself standing at the mouth of another hall, the light of the torches growing weaker but good enough to see that there were several passageways.

Another maze.

This was insane. These places were supposed to be mere game rooms, they weren’t supposed to dig this deep into the earth; to host what she imagined must’ve been macabre events and rituals. Either there was more to this forsaken place than Tina and Percival ever imagined, or this was strictly Grindelwald’s doing; both options equally terrifying for the deception and power they implied. But Tina kept walking the maze, until the flames grew weaker and weaker and looking back just meant looking into a space devoid of all light; of life. That alone wouldn't be so terrible if she didn't feel the heaviness of eyes washing over her with every step, but each glance back revealed nothing. No ghosts, no Grindelwald followers. No one. And yet...

A dead end.

Tina froze, wand in hand and a detection spell already flowing into the layers of rock imbued into the foundation. It wasn’t surprising that such an old place would be rich with older magic teeming at the surface; wards meant to keep all apparition subdued, and, if the uncomfortable pricking in her fingers was anything to go by, meant to keep all magic to a minimum as well. Unusual, since it would weaken the magic of everyone in the room.

With a quick twist, she released her detection spell, and stepped forward, heading into-

“…we’re late, you sap,” a mousy voice echoed from the steps behind her and Tina could only watch and wait to react. “Now come on.”

They were particularly heavy footsteps for such a small voice, and such a small body. The cloaked woman came through first; slender, with an even skinnier cigarette hanging between her fingers like a wand. Given her lack of proper winter jacket - this would never shield against snow - or even the right kind of stockings for the muggy weather outside, she must’ve been from one of the satellite offices down south, and that’s when it hit her, this was Louise Roebuck, one of the Senior Aurors from the Los Angeles office.

Every Auror had to come through New York for training, and most would still come back multiple times a year for MACUSA events and additional course-work. While on paper the job was the same, everyone knew that an Auror position in New York carried a lot more weight than one anywhere else in the country. It wasn’t just the higher pay either, but the opportunities to bump shoulders with people like Percival who could easily elevate someone’s fledgling career.

And no one knew this better than Tina, who, while shocked by the demotion, was still eternally grateful she wasn’t reassigned anywhere else in the country. _Better a secretary in New York than an Auror in Chicago_ , Percival had whispered to her in the privacy of his office.

Though, looking back, it may have been because he just wanted to keep her close.

“Sorry, sorry, my body still thinks it’s five in the morning, you know?” The other woman came running behind her with a heavy Italian accent, and while Tina didn’t recognize her, she had left on her badge, a quick glimpse revealing the words ‘Los Angeles’ quite clearly and confirming Tina’s suspicions.

Tina pressed her back into the wall as they marched through, all the way to the dead end.

“It’s fine, here, give me your hand.” Louise whispered.

Both women gasped, in rapid succession, and pressed their hands to the wall. When they pulled away, they left a dripping line of red that was quickly swallowed by the stone and disappeared.

And they walked through it.

Tina rummaged through her purse in search of something to use here. She still had Percival’s enchanted eye-patch and ‘borrowed’ bone healing potion along with the empty bottle of Percival’s balm. There wasn’t much time at MACUSA to pick up everything she needed, but she did manage an odd lighter, a prototype meant to remove all light in a room. What she was really after was some Peruvian Darkness Powder, but they were in suspiciously short supply and this was the closest replacement. And it wasn’t close at all, but it’s not like she was given a choice. The other nifty item she managed to nab was something she’d used before - a decoy detonator, an odd little thing that created an explosion elsewhere to create a diversion. Both exceedingly defensive items for her liking.

With her own magic weakening, her wand pressed fruitlessly against her skin. No cuts, even a small paper-cut formed and she had no knives or anything sharp; though Percival might say something about her tongue.

Except, glass. Percival had used a shard of glass to kill a man in that bathroom. Stabbed him right in the throat. 

Tina grimaced, ripping off a part of the sleeve of her blouse before taking out the empty bottle of the balm for Percival’s hand. She smashed it against the wall, clearing out any stray pieces of glass from the jagged edge before pressing it into her palm. It stung, as expected, and she quickly stuck her palm onto the cold stone, surprisingly soothing in the face of the burn on her hand – before it fell right through. She wrapped the makeshift bandage around her hand, tying a little knot at the top to stem the bleeding. This mission was deadly enough as it was, she didn't need to add blood loss or an infection to the list of dangers.

The narrow hall continued, but one side, instead of thick walls, held a set of stairs heading down and a rail overlooking another extravagant dining room, much like in The Silent Owl. The two ladies from earlier were already sitting amongst their peers, fourteen strong, mostly cloaked in something sporting Grindelwald's 'Deathly Hallows' symbol across the entire back. Impossible to miss. The chair at the head of the table, the same one Grindelwald seemed to prefer, sat empty, as expected.

And, as expected, Tina recognized almost all of the turncoats. Aurors, Typists, Obliviators, Archivists. All people they were supposed to trust, and some that her and Queenie even shared textbooks and school lunches with. Those same people would turn on her in a heartbeat.

Now all she needed to do was wait for them to begin talking, and count on Percival to be doing his job and catching all the incriminating evidence to justify a raid. After that-

One of the cloaked figures stood, suddenly, their gaze stretching from one side of the room to the other. This was either Travers, who called the meeting, or the real ‘lieutenant’ that Grindelwald appointed to run things while he was away. They’d been chasing shadows for so long that it’d finally be nice to unmask the real enemy, to finally know if they could truly trust even their own President.

They pressed their wand to their throat and began, voice booming against the thick walls. “I’d like to thank all of you for making it in such short notice,” the man projected and Tina suddenly found herself short of breath; found the room a little too small. She knew that voice. Heard it taunting a downed Percival for hours on end, whispering lies into his ears until they all started to believe them. “But there’s none I’d like to thank more than Ms. Goldstein.”

The whole table suddenly stood, all eyes up on the balcony, but no, it was impossible! Grindelwald was in London, they got to the vanishing cabinets first – no! This meant that he _knew_ about her and Percival’s master plan, that he knew and set this up, and-

_He wanted to take her again._

He pulled the cloak back, staring right into her eyes as if he saw right through her Disillusionment Charm, as if – oh no, no, no. Her hands were visible as day, as was all of her. Whatever she did to enter this room removed some of her magic with it and her disguise washed off like mud.

“If one of you would be so kind as to bring me Ms. Goldstein? I believe that our old friend Percival may be looking for her.”

It was all he needed to say for every chair to be kicked back, all men and women rushing up those steps in a delirious desire to please their leader but she didn’t have time to be disgusted at their lack of morals and self-control – she had to _run_.

Even then, it was just too many. There was a thunderstorm behind her, raining down every curse she’d ever learned about and she had no cover; her magic sputtering in her fingertips and making her as useless as Percival must have felt. And that wasn’t all; they were splitting up, navigating the other ends of the maze to catch her up ahead. At this rate, from all angles, they could catch up quickly and she’d be doomed, sentenced into the same fate as Percival. Broken, bound, and tortured in the darkness of an old-

_Darkness._

_If they couldn’t see her, they couldn’t catch her._

“Crucio!” Someone shouted and Tina ducked in time to see the spell smash into the ceiling above her, its green tendrils still slashing at her and sending a shock that forced a sharp scream from her lungs; and that was just the aftershock of a spell by a mere fanatic.

And Percival endured hours of this, directly, from Grindelwald’s own hands every day, and still opened his eyes with hope in the morning; still had the courage to keep going.

Merlin, that man deserved a medal and oh so much more from her.

She dug through her purse, the heat of her pursuers right behind her as her fingers clasped the cold lighter. Another spell flew right past her head, the words of another right in her ears and Tina snapped it open!

Just like that, all light from the remaining torches flew into her lighter and bathed the entire place in nothing but black and panicked yells from everywhere around her.

But she wasn’t done.

Still running, still pounding the stone, she reached for the soft felt of Percival’s eye-patch, still with the sweet coconut smell of Bob’s bodywash and draped it over her right eye and suddenly the world was on fire. The walls glittered like diamonds, their magic old but refusing to be forgotten and now Tina could navigate. And her pursuers, coming from all sides were nothing but confused flames, once running but now slow and cautious and, Tina realized with a smile, easy to defeat.

Many had run through the other passageways of the maze to sneak up on her but now she was the one bringing the fight to them. A large silhouette, no doubt a man, walked along the wall in front of her and Tina slammed into him, punching up his nose with her palm – as Percival had taught her that same week – before she continued running, the man’s agonizing screams behind her, his blood slipping down her palm.

“Lumos Maxima!” A woman screamed from somewhere in the maze and it was briefly bathed with light but the exit was so close, she could make it.

_Exits, Tina, exits!_

She was back through the study before the spells continued shaking the walls around her, but with the old magic fading away she had her magic back – she could fight and she _would_ fight – for herself, for MACUSA, for Percival. “Stupefy!” She yelled, the weakened spell slashing through the air and burying itself into a bearded Obliviator who fell into the fancy desk with a whine.

But, like a hydra, where one fell, two more appeared and she was back to running, through the red door, through the other frigid maze. She needed her exit, she needed-

_The kitchens!_

Tina shoved her way past patrons and goblins and whatever other living thing stood in her way, that metal door the only thing standing between her and freedom from her mistakes.

“Get her!” One of the men shouted, voice echoing in the hall and she couldn’t tell how close he was.

With a slam of her shoulder hard enough to hurt, she banged the door open, to surprised yells as a flurry of colorful spells entered that grimy kitchen with her.

“You can’t be in here!” One of the dutiful house elves, a boiling pot in hand tried to stand in her way but a whispered _Stupefy_ sent him flying.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” Tina gasped a muffled apology in time for her feet to give out under her, the greasy floor pulling her down in a sick revenge.

But she wasn’t alone.

Dawlish crashed on top of her, knocking her shoulder first onto the unforgiving tile below. For a tall man, all sharp angles and bone, he was deceptively heavy. He grabbed her wrists, slamming them down beside her and tearing her wand loose from her grasp. More were coming. She had to act. She’d done this before with Percival – she’d been beaten on the floor before and fought back, _so do it to him, Tina!_

Tina pulled her arm up and lifted her knee between her and the turncoat and _shoved_. The firm grip on her wrists released, and she kicked him again, the sudden yelp and explosion of blood confirming one more broken nose for that evening.

Another volley of spells flew over her head – not at her but the opposite way, each distorting white beam sending the incoming fanatics flying back into the empty halls. The house elves were fighting back, yelling and firing off spells with just their fingers faster than Percival on his best day. But she couldn’t get pushed back with it; to them she was an intruder. She needed to _run_.

“Grab her, you idiots!” Dawlish yelled over the raging battle while _he took her wand_ , and she could still feel his ice-cold grip snaked around her wrists, holding her down like a human sacrifice and for a moment, her blood turned cold enough to paralyze every inch of bone and muscle. He took her wand, she was defenseless, her wandless magic wasn’t good enough, she wasn’t-

_Get out Tina._

_Get. OUT!_

She forced herself out of her daze and launched herself out of that crowded kitchen, the people and creatures a mere blur, and into a narrow alley – she needed a busy street, somewhere with _people_ and Broadway was perfect. 

An explosion right behind her, people screaming and yelling – no-maj and wizard alike – and Tina couldn’t stop to help, didn’t have time to look, just to move. She shoved her way past well-dressed businessmen, doting nannies holding helpless babes, and even children heading to school, all of them cursing her for it but nothing as bad as the actual curses zipping through the air and hitting those same innocent people. They were just going about their day and Grindelwald’s men had no qualms about using magic in front of them, or disposing of them like mere flies buzzing in their face. If they had no concern for them, they would have even less for her.

“Hey, watch it!” A man cried as her shoulders slammed into his, both nearly falling. “Hey! You-ah!”

A flash of red bounced off the windshield of a car, the man’s mangled arm clear as day on the reflection, and Tina ran.

“Miss, what’s eating at-”

An inhuman noise completed his sentence, and Tina ran, feet aching, chest burning with each gulp of air, but she ran. She turned to snatch a look at her pursuers but only caught a blurred glimpse of slashing wands and one of the Chicago Aurors snarling, aching to grab just a piece of her coat and drag her to the floor where she’d be done for-where she’d be dead meat, where she’d never see Percival again. Would never see anyone again.

The heat of the explosions burned the back of her neck and she could feel the people she’d pushed out of the way falling over behind her, victims to spells she couldn’t even name. She was coming up on Chambers street, but another big street wouldn’t help. She wouldn’t survive.

But she knew this neighborhood, had walked it with Queenie in the summer, ice cream cones in hand during a Friday lunch break. She had patrolled the busy streets from the rooftops above, the cold wind behind her ears always there regardless of the time of year, many times with Percival and-

Percival!

Tina brought the glass to her lips and screamed his name.

Another spell hit a hot dog cart right next to her, the whole thing blowing into the air and Tina knew she’d get no better opportunity – she _Accio_ 'ed the flying cart back and with an _Expulso_ she blew it all to hell behind her, fire and debris flying in the face of her attackers and whoever else had the misfortune to be standing there.

“Tina!” A panicked yell responded. “Was that an explosion? Where are you?”

“Broadway-Chambers, I’m wandless,” she gasped out, a sharp sting to her sides as she jumped over an innocent homeless man. “Help!”

She was running out of cover; the busy street about to come to a major intersection ahead. A sea of cars would greet her and she didn’t think she could dodge all of them, not at full speed. They needed another plan, another out, _another exit_.

“Hard left – into the alley.” He suddenly ordered and she was not about to ask how he knew there was an alley right there.

Tina dug her heel in, jerking left and disappearing into the cover of darkness. She vaulted over discarded litter and a forgotten mattress seeped with stains that came from weeks of living outdoors, not knowing where Percival was leading her but without a doubt in his direction. There was a reason his wand was shaped like a conductor’s baton.

The ground shook, sending her into the brick wall and she spun again, ready, another _Expulso_ at the tip of her tongue but-oh! The bricks of both buildings zipped together behind her, creating an impenetrable wall that closed further and further with each unsteady step she took.

Percival! He was behind her; he never left.

He never would.

“Tina, go!” He shouted and she didn’t need to be told twice. “When you get to Church Street, turn right and right again on Chambers. Meet me inside Minnie’s - the fourth floor.”

She knew Minnie’s – an old-fashioned haberdashery right around the corner, a department store only three stories high to most passing no-maj but the wizarding community knew better.

She could make it.

\--

There were twelve.

Running, leaping, and throwing curses at Tina in broad daylight, with no concern for the Statute, or for the poor souls they might hit in the crowded streets. And why would they? These beasts had no concerns for anything that wasn’t themselves or their cause. In their own twisted arrogance, they never gave any thought to the phantom and his army leaping between rooftops, ready to silently sentence the bastards to death for the slew of crimes happening below.

He had to get them off Tina’s back.

He had to lure them away from no-maj witnesses and victims.

And if he couldn’t do both, well, he knew deep down which goal to prioritize.

“Smith,” Percival called out to the army of Aurors he’d gathered, all galloping beside him. “You and the Chicago team make containment your priority. Get the civilians off the street between here and the Chambers street station.”

“Gas leak, sir?”

“The worst New York’s ever seen.”

“Yes sir.” The sea of men and women responded right before a series of pops filled the air.

“Lemos, we need to move this fight somewhere else – where it’s easy. Block off the Chambers street station with the Los Angeles team, close down the tracks and wait inside for an ambush.”

Another chorus of confirmation and another wave of pops. Almost done.

“And you, DeSoto, I need you and the Washington team to funnel these idiots to the Chambers station, take the fight there where we can pick them off easily. They’re fucking _everywhere_.”

“And you sir?”

He leaped off the building to the one next to it, not once losing sight of Tina’s tight frame, running for her life far off in the distance.

“I’m getting our Assistant Director back.”

With that, the rest of his team was gone, attempting to recover what they could from this hell of a mission. All because he realized far too late that the whole thing was a fucking trap orchestrated by a maniac set on seeing him and Tina suffer for the sheer enjoyment of it. If they ever got back in one piece, he owed Smith an apology - Grindelwald _was_ insane.

The two cloaked men closest to Tina wasted no time in tearing down the wall he built. Perfect.

With a quick whisper, Percival’s form evaporated from across the street into the fire escape of that alley just in time for a burst of bricks to push through as the men came in. They scampered inside, not thinking about the shadow lurking above them. They would come to regret that.

“When we get to the end, you go right and I – what in the devil-”

Another wall, all jagged and misshapen bricks rose in front of them, a clawing mammoth that advanced at the men now quickly running back from where they came from. But Percival was ready, rising another wall from the other end and trapping them in the alley, like fish in a barrel.

What a shame, if they were Aurors, they would’ve known to look up.

Percival dropped right behind the panicked men, a quick slash of his wand sending thick ropes around thrashing limbs and cursing mouths until they too lay still. Not wanting a damn repeat of The Silent Owl incident, for his sake and MACUSA’s, he knocked both men unconscious with a Stupefy – only one use doing the trick – and flung his Hawk back to MACUSA to the remaining New York team, a signal for them to retrieve fresh prisoners. And these two men, unfortunately, wore far too familiar mugs. He didn’t know their names, but the pudgy one with the perfect height to jockey had handed Percival more old case files than he could remember down at the archives. The other, a burn mark eating half of his face, was a cocky Obliviator that he suspected used his talents outside of work more than at MACUSA.

What a waste.

Two down, ten to go.

He looked back down to the mirror, the shaky image almost impossible to decipher as the necklace bounced around Tina’s chest, but she had just turned onto Church. Judging by the explosions around her, the others were hot on her trail; he needed to move. There was another dull ache from his knee, but it didn't matter. 

For the rest of this chase, the rooftops would be his home. Like the majestic Patronus that had followed him since he was a boy, he would lurk above, watching and snapping down when opportunity struck. Most of these suckers never even saw it coming, and with his team just off in distance picking off more of them, they may have finally been winning.

One of the beasts got a little too close to Tina, nearly pulling at her coat and he didn’t think twice about taking hold of one of the cars and having it momentarily ‘lose control’ and ram into the sidewalk and into the idiot who dared try to take her from him.

Nine to go.

Another idiot came from out of nowhere, green beams flying out of his wand recklessly into the crowd of innocents. Grindelwald’s recruiting requirements were dropping faster than his patience on training day if the boorish behavior he was witnessing was anything to go by. They weren’t even bothering to aim for fuck’s sake and was that any way to hold a damn wand?! Shaking his head, Percival saw his opportunity in a piano dangling five floors up and slashed at the rope from afar, the whole thing crashing onto his prey with a bang loud enough for him to hear from the distant rooftops.

Eight to go.

Percival began his sprint again, apparating when necessary and it didn’t take long to find Tina up ahead, parting through the sea of commuters as more of Grindelwald’s people encroached from all sides. One of the cloaked men threw a sharp red blast at Tina, only narrowly missing her arm before striking the window of a bakery and sending shattered glass everywhere. It was a miss but the way he held his wand through the casting was suspiciously precise and in good form. This wasn’t just a typist.

“Another alley coming up – run in and don’t stop.”

She ducked, not saying a word as her gasps for air flooded his ears, and dipped into another narrow alley but the stranger didn’t march after her – he stopped. Wand in hand, he looked carefully inside before stepping in and all but confirming Percival’s grim suspicions – he was also an Auror.

The same trick he used on the lower level goons wouldn’t work on him.

He vanished into the air again, popping just behind him with a shield spell already flowing from his wand. The Auror whipped back at the noise, releasing another blast that crashed against Percival’s shield with enough force to push him back but not enough to penetrate it. His hood slid back from the impact, a sea of blonde curls falling over a set of blue eyes a little too shocked to see his superior.

“Johan,” Percival sighed, more annoyed than betrayed. “Life boring enough in Chicago to suddenly join a murderer?”

His nemesis kept his wand up, ready to kill, but no magic flew from it. The boy either had more respect for Percival than any other damn person there or he was frozen stiff in fear. Percival’s ego preferred the latter. “It’s good enough, Mr. Graves,” he mumbled, as he was prone to doing in every fucking training exercise. But the mister? Maybe it was the former then. “Stay back!”

Interesting. He wasn’t fighting back.

Percival stopped, shield thrumming steadily in his hand while Johan’s wand wavered. The kid was way out of his league and he wanted to feel bad for him, he really did, but he was an adult. He got up that morning, poured himself a bowl of Wheaties and put on that cloak laced with Grindelwald’s mark.

But fuck, he was a kid, barely out of training. If Percival disarmed him, his wandless magic wouldn’t even summon him a pebble, much less stop the onslaught Percival could unleash without even opening his mouth. Jauncey was an old man, he knew what the fuck he was doing. Travers and Dawlish weren’t up there like him, but they had several chances to back down and didn’t.

But this kid? And fuck, he looked so much like the kid in The Silent Owl bathroom. Someone who briefly chose the wrong path. _Did_ he deserve death?

“Put it down,” Percival coaxed, relaxing his posture but not his shield. “I don’t know why you joined him and I can’t pretend to know, but you’re over your head here. Put the wand down and your sentence won’t be nearly as harsh as what I can dole out.”

“You’re on the wrong side of history, Mr. Graves.” He said with confidence for perhaps the first time so far.

“Are you sure about that? I have over fifty Aurors picking up all of your friends right now and trust me, the penalty for treason is not enviable. You know what it is.”

“Death.”

“Correct,” he said, taking a careful step to the boy, whose eyes flickered between Percival’s eyes and his wand. He snuck a glimpse at the mirror in his hand to see Tina still running, still alive and he needed to wrap this up. “You’re far too young for that. How many years out of Ilvermorny?”

“Three, sir. Horned Serpent, prefect.”

Percival smiled, more at the continued use of 'sir' than anything else. “Right, as was I, though more than a few years ago. Don’t throw all that away for some cause; for a man who barely knows you-”

“He knows me,” he asserted. “He’s helped me already, when no one else did.”

“And yet, he’s off somewhere else, sending you to die for him.”

“No, that’s not true.”

“Johan, I have over a dozen men and women in our jail right now, awaiting trial. All followers of his that he’s abandoned. I don’t want the same to happen to you.”

Johan looked down, briefly – a mistake. This left Percival open to stun him; _kill_ him if he wished it, but that would ruin whatever trust he built with the kid. He didn’t know why he cared about saving this kid from the fate awaiting him; guilt, probably, but he did. Maybe if he could get just one of these fanatics to renounce-

The kid’s eyes flew up over Percival’s shoulder, open wide in shock. “Sir!”

Percival spun, throwing himself to the side and just barely missing a blinding flash of green that came within a hair of hitting his arm. Shield gone, Percival growled back a stunner that threw his attacker back to the busy street he escaped from.

And then, silence.

_Oh no._

Now several feet behind him, the boy laid cold, eyes staring up at the beyond, frozen in time. It was a sight that Percival had seen far too many times but it never ceased to clench at his heart, especially when it was one of his own. Especially when it was just a kid that he was still training up the ranks, someone who showed promise, who may have one day joined the squad in New York where the real challenges awaited.

God fucking damn it, the kid may have made all the mistakes in the world up to that point, but with his last breath he still chose to save his Director’s life over pleasing his maniacal boss, and he died for it.

_Fuck._

He knelt, pushing the kid’s eyelids down to rest. He vanished the kid’s cloak, leaving only the polished suit all Aurors were expected to march into work in.

Mustering an image of Tina’s smiling face, Percival called his Hawk to him and with a weary sigh he whispered, “Auror down by Church street.”

\--

When Tina reached the newly redecorated building, she nearly cried in relief. Percival had done a phenomenal job in picking off her pursuers – the piano was a nice touch - and now she was finally safe, could finally breathe just a little easier as she marched up the set of stairs, tucked in the corner and away from all the paying guests of the bustling department store. Several men in suits, likely security guards, gave her the odd look and she imagined she must’ve looked a mess in such a fancy store but she didn’t care. She just needed to get to the fourth floor, to Percival, and it would be over.

After the third floor, the regular stairs stopped, giving way to the perfume department. She rushed past the underpaid saleswomen and into the back, by the bathrooms, where she pressed her hand, still bloody and shaking, to the wall ahead and let the magic flow out of her and into the building, until it saw her as one of its own. Unlike the stone wall in the diner, this wasn’t meant to weaken the visitor, but test them, to see their intentions and, as the wall opened up and revealed the final set of stairs, she had passed.

Minnie’s haberdashery wasn’t exactly a haberdashery. Minnie herself couldn’t remember why she named it that (something about the name sounding funny – Tina agreed). The crowded shop was always filled with all sorts of magical items, ranging from worthless firecrackers to priceless artifacts, all seemingly thrown around the store in no order whatsoever. It was a hoarder’s dream; always a thrill to rummage through a nearly infinite amount of goods looking for a deal and her and Queenie wasted more than an afternoon in there in their younger years. Hell, Queenie still found herself there even these days, but at this time, it was empty. Even the cheerful attendant, a year Tina’s junior, didn’t answer to her call.

But it didn’t matter.

There, by the window overlooking Chambers street she found her lover – fraught with worry and wearing the scowl she was all too familiar with. His eyes immediately lit up when she called his name, as much as she imagined hers must have.

“Percival, thank Merlin!” Tina jumped into his arms, swearing to never let go of him again. There were no more pounding steps behind her, no more flying spells, just his warm arms welcoming her back from a disaster of a mission.

“It’s alright, I’m here,” he whispered, calm, unperturbed. “I’ve got you.”

She had grown to look forward to his hugs over the past couple of days. When he hugged, he _meant_ it; using his whole body, enveloping her in such a way that always made him feel like the bigger person even though he was the shortest man she’d ever dated. It wasn’t just something between friends or a married couple whose relationship had grown cold over the decades, it was full of life and the embodiment of passion and it made her feel loved in a way no person had ever done.

And… this embrace wasn’t that. It was distant and stiff, it was-

_No. It can’t be. No!_

Tina jerked back immediately.

“No,” she gasped, eyes searching wildly for that spark, for her Percival and-and- _nothing_. “Get away from me.”

“What?” He closed in, her personal space suddenly insignificant. “Love, it’s me.”

By all accounts the man in front of her was Percival Graves. He had the clothing, the hair, the voice. Everything they had always seen, every day since working for MACUSA. But as he took each measured step towards Tina, the disguise unraveled far too quickly.

They weren’t the tender eyes that softened whenever she so much as held his hand. The words, while Percival’s in text, didn’t come with warmth when they debated over the case at Bob’s house, or the passion she pulled when they made love, or even the mournful tenderness when he admitted his secrets to her the previous night. And, the order of it all. The Percival Graves she had known from her early days at MACUSA would’ve never had a hair out of place, as with the man in front of her, but _her_ Percival, the adventurous man she was beginning to uncover, hadn’t been that clean shaven since before they kissed.

And if he was there, it meant-no!

_Percival isn’t dead. He didn’t. He couldn’t be!_

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " Tina roared, both hands pointed at the impostor as an unsteady jet of green erupted forth.

He batted it away, the spell flying into a shelf of potions that burst at the impact. All with one hand.

“Don’t be ridiculous now, Tina, come here.”

“Revel-”

He was on her before she could complete the spell, grabbing her wrists and slamming all of her against the wall.

“Oh, now why would you want to do that?” He cooed, pressing his body into hers and Tina shut her eyes, not wanting to see the face of the man she loved being twisted into something he wasn’t, into someone he could never be. “Come now, Tina, look at me.”

“Fuck you.” She spat, hitting him right in the cheek and his eyes turned from intrigued to murderous immediately.

He pressed closer, his lips pushing against her ear and she wanted to jerk away, to do anything but she was stuck to that disgusting man no matter how much she struggled. “Eventually, love,” he taunted and now something warm pushed into her ear and Tina _snarled_. “Shhhh. We don’t want anyone else here, do we? The little cashier screamed too, and you won’t believe-”

She kicked up, hoping to find the sweet vulnerabilities of any man but found nothing but air as he jerked back and out of her way. It was just enough of a distraction and she slammed her head into his, the sudden impact blurring the world but she took her wrists back, sprinting out of-

Her legs were pulled out from under her and she crashed, his whole weight crushing her but this time he didn’t grab her wrists – he took her neck.

“How rude, both of you,” he gasped, out of breath. “I just wanted to make this enjoyable, love. But, I can see from the little bruises on your neck that you like a little pain, don’t you?”

She couldn’t breathe! Tina gasped and pulled the air around her but none of it made it, none of it. It was drowning – it was worse than drowning and it was by Percival’s hands, the same hands that buried into her scalp in their most passionate moments, that untangled knots of stress from her shoulders. Now those same hands were taking life from her, having her throat burning as it grasped for anything it could to sustain life.

Tina’s hands flew wildly against him, trying to hit, scratch or tear or hurt the maniac pressing her into the floor but was too far, just out of reach and he laughed at her attempts. It was Percival’s laugh, but twisted and vengeful, something she would never expect to come out of his mouth.

She was going to die, on that dirty floor, and her last living memory would be of Percival’s eyes, full of hatred-

A blur of black jacket and red rage rammed the impostor off her, both men rolling on the floor beside her as Tina gulped in a batch of fresh air. Each gasp brought a little more light and color into the world as she grasped to understand the battle raging a few feet away.

Percival! A snarling, roaring Percival that was casting spell after spell with such ferocity that the walls shook just upon leaving his wand. Grindelwald’s disguise either faltered or was peeled back by Percival, the blonde man throwing half the room at them to avoid the vicious spells coming his way.

“Tina,” Percival suddenly growled. “Out.”

“No! you need-”

 _“I said OUT!”_ The floorboards below her came to life, whipping her back through the same doorway he stampeded through and before she could run back in, a wall of concrete came down and shut the room from the world.

NO! She could help damn it!

Tina threw herself against the concrete, yelling the harshest spells she knew at the wall but it all bounced right off like nothing, the distant explosions from within the room vibrating against her fingers. They had power in numbers damn it, _she could help!_

“He went up here!”

A voice from below the stairs, also far too familiar.

Dawlish. Blood still pouring out of his misshapen nose. With her wand and his, and a small army behind him; how many were there?!

It didn’t matter. She sprinted to the end of the hall, at the window and just as the men noticed her presence, she threw herself out of there, hoping the concrete below would have more mercy than the spells behind her.

\--

That fucking son of a bitch.

He was going to kill him. A part of him wanted to show mercy, to be the better man, but it was out the door.

He would kill him.

“Do you think she’s safe now?” Grindelwald mocked, beginning to walk and Percival followed suit, both men circling each other like vicious predators fighting for dominance. “Outside, with my men aching to bring her to me?”

Grindelwald prowled, sleek and quiet, more panther than man and so unlike the thundering beast that Percival became, with all the force and rage of a dragon protecting its horde. Every ounce of magic in his body was at his fingertips, aching for proper release and if he ever needed to tap into the murderous intent required for Unforgivables, this was it.

Their eyes locked across the room, through dust and smoke and Percival lunged, his wand cutting through the air with a mind of its own, a burst of green erupting with such a flash that everything lit up like New Year’s eve. It collided with a bang, hitting concrete and heavy shelves and whatever else and when the dust settled, Grindelwald flew out from behind a life-size statue of a raging hippogriff.

He _hid_ , like a fucking coward.

“An Unforgivable? Oh, Percival how you’ve changed.”

“Fight me,” Percival roared, whipping another curse straight at his tormentor but it ricocheted right off the coward’s shield, blowing up a pristine antique desk until it was nothing more than splintered pieces of a once noble tree. “Fight me, you coward!”

“This is the thanks that I receive,” Grindelwald scolded, wand hanging loosely in his hand as if this combat was mere entertainment for him; nothing more than a joke. “For feeding you, caring for you, not hurting your precious _Tina_.”

How _dare_ he use her name! The woman who had more fire and passion in her toes than any whole person should be capable of, to have her name smeared like blood on the wall.

_It would not do._

“Allow me to thank you properly.” Percival sneered, another blast of green stampeding through the room, crushing the floor in half and crunching everything else in its path until it was all dust.

And still, Grindelwald remained, walking – not running - through the smoke with nary a scratch. Smiling.

“Is that it? Maybe Gorsky was right. After everything, you really are just a shadow of your former self, aren’t you, Percival?”

Percival gripped the shelves of knick-knacks lining the wall with his wand, felt the wooden casing – the weight, the finish, as if it were in his own hands – and slammed it across the room, a mess of nerve and sweat and blood pouring down his forehead.

But it stopped short, breaking in half before crashing against the wall while Grindelwald emerged, somehow without a single damn scratch on his body or even any sign this was a struggle while Percival could barely stand on a barely healed knee.

 _Fuck, his knee_. He tried to lunge again but slumped, shoulders sagging as he tried to compensate for his limp and of course Grindelwald noticed, that confident smile growing wider.

“Unfortunately, I do have somewhere else to be, Percival. Maybe your precious Tina will be waiting for me. Bound and gagged with a pretty little bow on her head.”

He raised his hand, summoning a small object to him from the rubble, wand lowered and Percival was not going to miss this chance – he flung himself forward, through pain and regret, a curse slipping off his tongue and-

Grindelwald vanished, the curse hitting the wall behind where he had stood a mere second ago and blowing a hole through the wall that had light suddenly flooding in.

Tina!

He had to get to her-he had to-

But where the hell was she?

He told her to get out, he didn’t say where, only to run, she could be anywhere, she could-

The mirror!

Percival yanked it out of his pocket and shouted her name.

\--

“Molliare!” Tina shouted, hands pointed to the ground below and she braced for impact but her body merely bounced off the concrete as if she had landed on a mattress.

Her wandless magic wasn’t at the same level as Percival’s, but it would suffice.

A young boy, no more than ten, with a stack of newspapers in hand gasped as she rolled off her back. “Woah, lady, how’d you do that?”

“I, uh,” Tina stammered, pushing off the floor into another sprint. “Eat your vegetables and stay in school!”

“There! By the newsstand!” Dawlish’s voice filled the air again, angrier this time around.

 _Ah, shit_ , she barely had any lead time over them and now she needed to run. With a slew of fanatics still after her, still chasing, she needed better cover – she leapt right, into the alley she knew had a fire escape up a largely no-maj residential building.

“Tina!” Percival’s panicked voice came through once again. “Where did you go?”

With all her strength, she grabbed as much of the surrounding building’s wall as she could and _yanked_ , creating a rapidly zippering barrier behind her as Percival had done, and giving her enough time to distract her followers.

“Almost at Chambers street station,” she gasped out, a sharp sting to her sides as she jumped up the metal staircase two steps at a time. “Help!”

"How many after you?"

"Four, at least two are Aurors!"

“I’m coming, love, just hold on, alright? I'm getting the others.”

His voice, a calm breeze in the turbulent sea, brought just a smidge of hope to her chest and she pounded the steps harder, the unstable steel clanking at her feet and threatening to break apart.

And then, a sharp bang of exploding brick and concrete – they got through!

“Up there! Take her down!” This was Travers; the fucking traitorous bitch who-

The metal screamed and twisted beneath her, a roaring snake that coiled upwards. Iron that had been shaped and carved by no-maj for weeks to be built for this purpose, so quickly torn and uprooted to serve a different purpose altogether. Something that its makers could have never predicted to even be possible. Bars and handles alike melted under her touch, tilting the whole thing back, threatening to throw her off and Tina knew her only escape was _in_.

“Finestra!” Tina yelled at the closest window, not waiting for it to shatter before leaping in. It wasn’t enough time for the sharp glass to fall into harmless dust and the shards pierced through skin and muscle. No pain to alert her, just jagged edges burying into the sleeves of her clothes.

A woman, all blonde curls and a skimpy nightgown, screamed bloody murder, falling back into an unsightly yellow wallpaper. She couldn’t even blame her; for no-maj and wizard alike, having a frazzled woman burst through a kitchen window, kicking over a skillet of fried eggs while leaping from the sink did not exactly make for a normal morning. Judging from the angry screams outside, that woman’s day was about to get a lot worse.

The small apartment was nothing but a crowded blur of a diseased shade of yellow, antique vases that crashed at her complete lack of decorum through a stranger’s house, and even a hissing cat. She pitied the stranger, she really did, but she needed out; needed a way through. There was a way to her bathroom, another bedroom and- Mercy Lewis the woman was still shrieking to high heaven! No, she needed a whole other way through.

Sharp whistling of knives accompanied the screaming which quickly fell silent.

They were through; oh hell they were through and she was trapped, she was-

“Exits, Tina, exits!” Percival yelled, in her head and through her necklace.

_The front door._

Tina dashed through the hall, all blood draining from her face as a blaze of red flew just above her head and burst into a lamp, the sudden fiery explosion throwing her face-first into the door. The world tilted, twisting upside down while she palmed the doorknob. Her ears throbbed; the shrill ring replacing shouted orders and whizzing spells but the door flew open and she fell out of that cramped apartment and into an even thinner hallway.

She couldn’t think; could barely move but instinct won and she locked her hand into the outside knob to freeze it, the crackling ice rapidly enveloping the door and buying her another few seconds.

The lights above her flickered, drenching the stretch of worn out doors and crusted carpet with light or darkness on a whim.

Everything ached; from her heaving chest to her trembling feet but she needed to keep going. Percival was coming. _Percival is coming_.

A sharp bang against the door. Shouting. Smoke seeped from the bottom of the door. Her body’s desperate need for rest would not be met but she needed distance.

Scraping herself to her feet, gasping and bleeding, she charged to the end of the hall, to the building's normal set of stairs and ran the one direction they wouldn't expect - up.

“ _Expulso!_ ” Tina growled at the first flimsy door ahead of her, the number five hundred barely legible as it burst, sharp husks of wood flying in all directions as she pushed forward, through another apartment.

Running, like this, was not going to work. There were a dozen of them and one of her, they had wands but she had wits; she could lose them.

Tina sprinted to the bedroom, thankfully empty, and with another growl the window burst open but Tina did not jump through it. Instead, she yanked the little decoy from her purse. This wasn’t the use she had in mind for it, but damn it, it had to work. She grabbed the device with muscle and magic, flinging it out the window and guiding it past the adjacent building, past the corner.

Another bang from somewhere in that floor – she leaped into the closet, reeking of dust and mold and she sank behind a battalion of coats just in time to feel the stampede thunder into the apartment.

Tina covered her mouth with both hands, her gasps for air muffled, and she prayed.

She didn’t know to whom, or to who what. But she prayed.

Because if they opened that closet and found her, they wouldn’t take her to Grindelwald that quickly. No, she could tell from the sadistic look in the Dawlish’s eyes that their intentions for her were far more sinister.

“In here, quick!” Travers said, coughing wildly, and from the slit in the door Tina could see blood dripping from her hand and pooling on the floor.

It wasn’t her blood.

“Ah shit, where the hell did she scamper off to?” One of the men roared, hopping out the window and now it was time. With nothing more than a whisper, the decoy detonator exploded in the neighboring building loud enough to shake the walls.

Another man followed him, a deep, powerful voice that resonated. “There! Damn she’s fast.”

“Yeah but her stamina’s shit,” Travers said, whispering a loud _fuck_ to herself as her coughs continued. She leaned over the sea of dust from the broken glass but she didn’t step out with the others. “Split up. She can’t be far.”

With her heart still pounding against her chest, Tina bit down on her hand and made herself as small as possible in that tiny closet as she peeked out from over her knees.

One body hopped out of the window, and another.

But one remained.

They weren’t moving but Tina could feel their presence just beyond the door. Whoever this was, they were an Auror. Travers or Dawlish. Only an Auror would be smart enough to stay behind and thoroughly investigate the surrounding crime area rather than barge ahead into the unknown. It was a lesson, that much to Percival’s disappointment, Tina had failed the first time; choosing to charge rather than meditate.

The floorboard creaked. Slowly. A heavy step.

A soft clack of something light hitting hollow wood and her whole body jerked against the wall.

Another creak. The bitter taste of iron in her mouth.

They’ll go away soon. They’ll go rejoin their friends outside in a wild goose chase and it’ll be over. When they do that, she’ll double back, she’ll find Percival and escape this burning building, and it would all be alright.

It would be alright.

It wasn’t at that moment, but, it would be.

The floor settled again, but just a bit closer to her. And again, and again.

Until they were right outside the closet and Tina stopped breathing altogether.

Silence.

The small slit she was looking out of suddenly grew larger and Tina readied herself for the onslaught, hands raised, every offensive spell in MACUSA’s handbook rushing to her fingertips when-

“Travers, doll,” a rushed voice greeted; a man’s, but younger. “Graves is comin’ in quick, he’s got a lot of Aurors with him – not just MACUSA trash either.”

“Shit,” Travers sighed, the door still slightly ajar. “He called a fucking State of Crisis?”

Tina nearly gasped – it hadn’t been invoked in over a hundred years!

“The fuck is that?”

“It’s when the Magical Exposure clock hits its limit. They’re shutting the city down – no apparition or floo, even portkeys,” her voice quivered a little, finally showing as much fear as Tina. “We have to get out now before they finish. Fucking damn it!”

“What about Goldstein?”

“Forget her, leave it to the others, come.”

Her grip from the door fell and now two more bodies quickly jumped out of the window and into the nearby fire-escape, two distinct pops filling the air before silence. That made four out of four.

Percival called a State of Crisis.

_(“There’s a reason it hasn’t been done since 1807 – it’s messy. We’re putting all of New York into quarantine in all but name but most of its residents don’t know it.”_

_One of the other Auror trainees raised his hand quickly, Graves giving him a nod. “You mean the no-maj?”_

_“Correct. It also means calling every Auror to New York until it’s resolved,” he sighed, eyes out of focus as if remembering something unpleasant. “Now, enough of the history lesson. Wandless drills everyone, line up, two even rows. Whoever fucks it up gets to duel me, now let’s go.”)_

She needed to move before the whole thing was in flames.

Enough time had passed.

Enough time for the rush of adrenaline to drain out of her body and for pain to resurface as she pulled herself up to her feet and pushed that closet door open. A pulsing throb right above her eye, where she greeted the door from the previous apartment, followed by a sting to her lower abdomen, no doubt from when Grindelwald dragged her to the floor. She reached down to soothe it but her blood froze when she found something sharp embedded just below her ribs. A piece of glass, blue and glistening around the sea of red quickly spreading throughout her blouse.

_(“Never yank it out!” Graves yelled to the downed Auror, panic sweeping across his face. He batted away the man’s hand where it was trying to reach the knife embedded in his leg. “If you’re in the field, with no healing, you can bleed to death. Keep it in until you can see a Healer.”_

_“And what if the object’s enchanted, or cursed?” Tina asked, ripping off a piece of her coat to wrap around the injury, as Graves had taught them. “What then?”_

_He gave her that famous look of annoyance but she knew it was a valid question and stared back in defiance. “Then you get yourself to that Healer faster.”)_

“Are you alright, love?”

Tina nodded to herself, still swimming in the memory as her body swayed out of that room.

“Tina? Talk to me.”

It was louder this time. It wasn’t in her head. It wasn’t a memory.

“Yeah,” she whispered back, her side aching with each step but if he noticed her limp, he’d worry even more. So, Tina marched on despite the pain, despite the knowledge of how a stab wound to the stomach was a path to a slow death if she didn't move. “Going to rush down the stairs and get out of here before they double back.”

“Atta girl,” he said. “I’m coming your way, just-”

Something caught at her ankle and _pulled_ and Tina couldn’t help the inhuman noise from deep in her throat. “She’s in here!”

Tina grabbed the rope, a damn _Incarcerous_ , and yelled a hasty _Diffindo_ that slashed it open. She was about to stand when a hand flew around her throat for the second time that day, grasping at her collar and yanking her up until she could barely make out the rasp of her blouse ripping, her heart pounding in her ears.

Dawlish! Nose still bloodied from her kick, his stare murderous, as if it were a completely different man than the co-worker she’d shared coffee with once upon a time.

“You broke my nose,” he said, eyes narrowing and before Tina could respond he smashed his free hand into her face, sending the entire world into darkness for a brief second as a distinct cracking sound exploded in her head and pulled a pained yell from her throat. “Feels good, don’t it?”

 _Tina_ , a voice called to her. Percival’s voice. _Tina, remember, when people get emotional they make mistakes. Even I do it._

 _Yes_ , Tina answered the headless voice. _Normally when you get angry._

Another hit and the world faded away again. She was unarmed, someone she once trusted suddenly burying punches into her, just like with Percival. But Percival had-

Glass. Percival had glass and so did she.

Seeing nothing but the leftovers of a man she once respected, Tina pulled the shard out of her abdomen and shoved it into his torso and she didn't stop, drawing the blade out and sinking it in again and again. The assault stopped, the grip on her blouse failed and Tina fell to the floor, limp, blood and smoke burning against her tongue.

“TINA!” Percival screamed from somewhere far away.

Something fell next to her and the ground shook, the world still flashing between light and dark to the same pulsing beat on her head.

_(“Get up,” Percival ordered from across the training room, not a hair out of place as he fixed his sleeves from the brutal punch he landed. “Up, Tina.”_

_She tried to press off the floor but a sharp ache to her ribs had her right back down on her stomach. “I can’t, sir. I think-I think it’s broken.”_

_“Your legs aren’t broken. Get up.”_

_That damn man was going to be her death. Biting down until she tasted blood and regret at not becoming a potions master, she pushed to one knee first, then another, each breath shooting a sharp jolt through her chest._

_“Good,” he paced his way to her, arms raised and ready for combat. It had been hours but not a single drop of sweat fell from his brow. “Every day you will face someone with a chip on their shoulder, who will do anything to brag to their friends about killing an Auror. So when they knock you down, what do you do?”_

_Tina stood, gritting her teeth but raising her arms in opposition, against sense, against pain, she breathed, “I get up.”)_

\--

“Tina! Talk to me please, Tina.”

The image on the mirror - Dawlish’s bloody body on the wooden floor, smoke rapidly filling the room - did not move an inch. She was dying, she was alone and hurt and _he wasn’t there_.

There was a pop beside him, the only response to his rushed Patronus, but Percival didn’t even bother acknowledging it. “Boss! We’ve got ‘em cornered underground, we-”

“DeSoto, get whoever we can spare and meet me at the corner of Chambers and Elk – look for panic and a burning building.”

“Sir?”

“ _We have an Auror down – now go!_ ”

He wasn’t there when she was sentenced to death.

He wasn’t there when she was taken by portkey.

He was not going to stand by and watch Death take her hand again.

When Percival apparated, he broke every single rule he’d learned as a cocky teenager. The only image that burned in his mind was that of Tina’s smile while sharing a bed with him, not the shabby destination. Desperation enveloped him, its greedy hands removing any feeling of self-preservation for the rest of his limbs as it disappeared into the air. And when he re-appeared a few blocks away, a roaring black cloud with all the finesse of a fresh trainee, it was a miracle all of his limbs were still attached.

He was greeted with chaos; smoke billowing from every window above the third floor, no-maj men and women in pajamas and half-dressed for work, shoving each other down to exit the rapidly building inferno.

He didn’t wait for them to finish escaping before he drove himself through them and up the stairs, where the spreading flames from above brought an inhuman heatwave that had him gasping for air. Even in heavy clothes he wasn’t spared and he could only imagine how Tina was holding up-

Movement! She was up – she crawled from over Dawlish’s bloody body and she was walking!

“Tina? Tina talk to me, _please_.”

“I got up,” she mumbled, the halls of a near-empty apartment in the mirror shaking with every other step. _Ah fuck_ she was limping. “I got up, boss. I’m on the fifth floor, I think.”

But she was alright, Merlin, she was alright.

Percival marched up the flight of stairs to the second floor, the heat drawing beads of sweat down his forehead, but he couldn’t stop the triumphant smile plastered across his face. “That’s right. When they knock us down, we get up.”

“I’m sorry,” Tina muttered, quietly and he could feel the tears in her voice before she began coughing. “I should’ve gone home.”

“No, Tina, you were doing exactly what I trained you to do,” he said, gripping the little mirror tighter. “You marched in the face of death. You put yourself in danger so that we could all live just a little better, even after I showed you everything Grindelwald was capable of. Where I cowered, you attacked,” he continued, making sure she stayed with him. “You deserve that fucking promotion and I’ll make sure you get to keep it no matter what happens tomorrow.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Not just because I’m sleeping with you?”

“That only means you deserve it more.”

The smoke was growing thicker as he rounded the corner, wand at the ready for any of Grindelwald’s people that had been lurking in the shadows. With both compromised, under the cover of smoke, it was the perfect opportunity to be jumped and, as much as he wanted to run through the dilapidated building in search of Tina, he couldn’t do it without possibly forfeiting his life. Even in times like these, certain procedures could not be overseen.

It’d be easier if he had more people but where the hell were his Aurors?

“After I get you; after we get you through the infirmary,” Percival said, making his way to the third floor. “I want to take you out.”

Now he was the one coughing into his coat but he was so close. His whole body was on fire and he began to peel back his outer coat, now stuck to his skin under a film of sweat that had glued itself to every inch of him. But every case file, every piece of evidence they had pulled with blood, sweat, and tears was in there.

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t; he’d rather burn than give it all up, not when Tina was still the fighting beast he knew.

“Everyone will see. The typist pool will kill me for taking MACUSA’s most eligible bachelor off the market.”

“And Queenie will set them straight,” he said, amazed she could keep a sense of humor in the face of death. Fuck, he loved this woman. “But I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore. I just want to be with you.”

He glimpsed at the mirror and what he saw had him running up those steps just a little harder. Everything was growing darker, the smoke obscuring almost anything he could see. Tina could’ve been moving for all he knew but he couldn’t see shit. But she was staying low to the ground and below the heavier smog, and as long as she did that he had a chance.

“It’s supposed to snow, for Christmas,” she said, the image in the mirror faltering and falling, her body against the wall and _he still wasn’t there_. “I bet your lake will be beautiful.”

“I’ll take you,” he said quickly, launching himself up to the fourth floor three steps at a time, thighs aching but it didn’t matter. “We can do anything you want. Sledding, skating. Anything. Just stay with me, love, I’m almost there.”

Percival pressed the back of his hand to the door and whipped it back just as quick. The fire must’ve started there but he didn’t have time to put it out.

“My name is Tina Goldstein, and I’m an Auror,” Tina suddenly began whispering from the mirror. “I help people. I save people.”

“Don’t do that now, love, I need you to stay with me,” he marched up, to the fifth floor but she didn’t acknowledge him and just continued reciting what he taught her, until her coughing grew too heavy, the words barely present. “Tina?”

If she was doing that, if that was her last resort – she must’ve been in pain.

Percival barged through the door, the flood of smoke no better than sand being thrown into his eyes. It didn’t just hurt, it _stung_ ; his poor tear-ducts straining to produce anything to wash away the filth but he didn’t have time, he needed to run, he needed to-

A rumbling crash shook the floor, throwing him to the wall and when he re-opened his eyes, part of the floor right in front of him was gone, the smoke from below rising and covering the entire floor in darkness.

“Tina!” He coughed, not at the mirror anymore. “Tina, answer me!”

She wasn’t answering and he was faltering – _where the fuck were his Aurors?!_

Percival flung a hasty Patronus and jumped over the hole, hoping, _trusting_ there wasn’t an even bigger one waiting for him.

There was an open door ahead, the only one in the whole damn hall.

She was in there, he just knew it.

He knew it.

And as soon as he pushed that door open, he saw her – slumped against a far-off wall, still coughing out a lung as the roaring flames and cracking windows stopped all his calls from reaching her, but it didn’t matter because _she saw him_.

Another window exploded and now Percival lunged to her, to grab her, to take her home where she belonged-

His feet were suddenly floating in the air as a bang from the floor sent him flying sideways but _something_ ; something cold and clammy gripped his hand – Tina!

And then it wasn’t his feet giving out as another crack _ripped_ through the entire building – but the hand that pulled him was now dropping as the floor collapsed beneath her and Percival _pulled._

He pulled and tugged and Tina screamed but her arm was covered in blood. _Her_ blood, he realized with a pang of guilt and he gripped her tighter but it didn’t matter – she was slipping! She was slipping and he needed help, _he needed his Aurors_ -

“Boss!” A voice suddenly rang and suddenly _someone jerked him back, and only him._

Tina’s hand, _trusting_ in him, _desperate_ for him, flew off his and just as he reached into the chasm of fire and smoke, his entire body was pulled and twisted into the void of apparition.

And when he blinked, the sudden winter chill of the outside air greeted him.

_No!_

_NO!_

“We need to get back!” He bellowed, lunging towards the smoldering building, flames be damned, because she was in there and she needed-

A ball of fire erupted from every window, the shockwave alone throwing him and the depleted team back, showering them with glass and rocks and soot. Percival smashed into the concrete, right shoulder first and he didn’t even recognize the loud cracking, or the aching burn on his cheeks because _Tina was still in there._

“No,” he breathed, throwing himself back at the fire. “NO!”

There were people, so many people moving and running around him, a scene of pure chaos but he didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care. All he saw was the bright red fire hydrant off in the distance and that was all he needed.

Using whatever strength he could muster, he tore the top off, a jet of water exploding into the air. People screamed, people ran but Percival took a hold of the stream, a gigantic, roaring snake that smashed into cars and people as he strained to control it and send it into the burning building.

And he was alone. The other Aurors, they weren’t following. They weren’t-

Someone was pulling him back! Someone-so many hands were dragging him away, away from Tina, away from his only chance and his only shot at saving her faltered, hissing as it fell limp as rain above them.

“Auror team, retreat!” Picquery called out from somewhere but Percival couldn’t be bothered to pinpoint her, could only look at the cascading structure and _why weren’t they putting the fire out?!_

“No!” He yelled, jerking out of their grasp. “Put the fire out! I SAID PUT IT OUT!”

Percival grabbed a hold of the jet again, the water roaring against the blazing inferno but no other jets joined him. Not one. _No one was helping-why weren’t they helping?_

“Help me,” he gasped, his eyes shooting wildly from Auror to Auror but no one moved, they just looked at Picquery, as if her opinion mattered, as if anything other than saving Tina _mattered_. “Please! _She’s still in there_ ,” he said again but _they didn’t fucking move_! “She’s-she’s, help me!” He begged, a different kind of pain ripping through his chest. “Please! PLEASE HELP ME!”

“Aurors, please retrieve Mr. Graves.” Picquery said it so coldly her voice alone could’ve doused the place.

“NO!” He rushed forward, nearly reaching the curb before something smashed into his back, knocking him face-first into the slush on the ground. “No-no-no,” he gasped as all air vanished from his lungs.

Percival shuffled up and lunged again, almost there, almost-

“ _Stupefy._ ” A man yelled from somewhere and another wave of nausea swept through him, bringing him to his knees.

“Hang on, love,” he whispered, dragging himself through the ice and snow which stuck to him like glue. Every inch of his body ached but it didn’t matter because only she mattered. “I’m coming. I’m-”

“Mr. Graves!” Picquery called out as if he cared. “There are no-maj everywhere! The Statute!”

“I don’t care,” he roared, every limb trembling as he strained to send the roaring jet of water into the building where the flames burned high. “I don’t care about the fucking Statute. I don’t care- _help her_!”

Something else hit him, slamming his head into the pavement until the world made no sense. Until he couldn’t feel or move.

_Help her. Someone help her. Please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MANY QUESTIONS!!
> 
> How did Grindelwald know where Tina and Percival were meeting?  
> Did Travers and the other man manage to escape New York before they sealed it off? Did Grindelwald?  
> Why did the other Aurors take so long to arrive?  
> Is Tina really gone?!
> 
> If you absolutely need to know the answer to the last one -
> 
> SPOILER ALERT  
> ^  
> ^  
> ^  
> Tina is not dead (but she isn't out of the woods yet either). Percival doesn't know that. Which means: grab your handkerchiefs because next chapter will probably be the most heart-wrenching one you'll read in this entire story. 'Unhinged' may actually be an understatement. If you don't tear up at least once then I suck as a writer.


	22. I wish I was the monster you think I am

“But Cecily, Mark ain’t going out with her no more. Why don’t you see what he’s up to this weekend?” Steph suggested with a shrug that made her short hair bounce on her shoulder. She had one of Cecily’s white-knuckled hands intertwined with hers and judging from the lack of blood flow, Cecily was holding on a little too tight.

Cecily shook her head with vigor and dabbed her eyes against the sleeve of her shirt, the pure linen darkening from her mascara. “It’s just, I don’t know if I’m ready Steph. Sam was just so abrupt. We were s’pose to go to the Hamptons to meet his folks, and now, and now-”

Her lip quivered again before breaking out into a cry _again_. Queenie didn’t even need to pay attention to their thoughts; both women wore their hearts on their sleeves. Cecily maybe a little too literally at that moment, but Queenie gave her a firm squeeze on the shoulder anyway.

“I heard that Sam got sent to the infirmary for some curse on his junk, from another lady up in the Treasury department. He wasn’t worth it, hon.”

She heard it from Mr. Graves’ head, but they didn’t need to know that.

Cecily only seemed to cry harder at the realization that her Prince Charming really was anything but. Hm, she could do better than some hotshot Obliviator with a head too big to fit in the lifts. “Tell ya what, hon, how about-”

_‘NO!’_ The voice – a thought – burst through her head as if it were being shouted right at her ear. ‘ _NO-NO-NO! STOP!’_

It continued-it wouldn’t stop-it got louder-

_‘SHE’S STILL IN THERE! PLEASE, PLEASE STOP!’_

Her knees buckled. She tried to hold onto the nearby desk but couldn’t find a grip, couldn’t-

_‘SHE NEEDS HELP – SHE NEEDS HELP BECAUSE OF ME, STOP!’_

There were papers flying, blurred faces rushing over her-

_‘SOMEONE, PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP ME!’_

“Queenie? Oh my God, someone – she needs some air!”

Queenie opened her eyes and she was slumped over on the floor, the papers she’d been carrying all splayed out around her as if knocked by the wind.

That was Mr. Graves. It was his voice, she was sure of it and-

_Tina._

But-no!

She had always felt her big sister’s presence - always. And it was still there, a silent warmth pressing against her heart as it always was. She didn’t know what it was - there was no modern magic to explain it – but no matter how injured her sister was when came home after a grueling day on the job, it was there. Even when Tina was all the way in London with Mr. Ogden, she still knew her sister was alright without needing the faint Patronus to say a thing. But, if Tina was – if Tina-

No, she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. Mr. Graves was wrong.

He had to be.

With shaking hands and an unstable gait, Queenie pushed off the cold floor and rushed out of the cramped office, the yelling thoughts growing louder and louder, drowning out real voices of people right next to her as if they didn’t even exist. And, at that moment, they didn’t. A cold, hopeless ache filled her heart, an ache that she knew didn’t belong to her but became hers at that moment. Mercy Lewis how it tore right into her – _through_ her – pushing tears out of her eyes that weren’t ready to be there that day. Mr. Graves may have put on the image of the heartless statue, but goodness, she’d never felt something so powerful, so anguished, from any man in her life.

When Queenie finally made her way to the atrium, she froze at the sight.

Everyone had stopped working, all gathering for the twisted parade of weary Aurors trudging inside with prisoners in hand. Some were very much alive and fighting invisible constraints, as if they could actually get away, and others were being dragged like heavy sacks. Some didn’t even look alive. The yelling pounding against her head only became more violent, a steady stream of curses and apologies and Queenie looked for the trashing man but found nothing that resembled Mr. Graves. Just a steady stream of leather jackets carrying cloaked men and women – some familiar – and –

She gasped hard enough for the two witches beside her to stare.

Towards the back, with hands cuffed in front of him, was Mr. Graves. There were Aurors on either side of him, hands locked around his arms as they led - _pulled_ \- him in and oh goodness he was limping, each step sending his whole body lurching forward, one shoulder bobbing in a way that wasn’t right, blood dripping from his forehead down his cheek. But what had Queenie shocked was the blank look on his face. There was nothing. No thrashing around, no panic, just, a blank slate frozen in time. If he wasn’t manually moving his legs forward, Queenie wouldn’t believe he was alive.

And his hands – they were exposed. Tina had made a big deal about Grindelwald’s mark on him, how he concealed it from the entire office in shame and fear of being called a traitor. But as they continued to drag him, the red lines shone brightly against the black chains and no one could keep their eyes off it.

_‘That’s his mark – I always knew!’_

_‘If Grindelwald’s had his hands on him, who else is suspect?’_

_‘Burn him! Burn him with the rest!’_

Queenie shoved someone out of the way, to Mr. Graves, to talk to him, but all the Aurors guarding him immediately tensed, holding onto their boss not as if he would escape, but as if Queenie posed a threat to him; their boss, the person they were all overflowing with guilt about. Not nearly as pronounced and anguished as what Mr. Graves was still radiating, but present nonetheless.

They knew who her sister was. They saw what happened.

“No, Queen,” Smith whispered as he suddenly came between them, taking both her shoulders. “You can’t.”

“Theo, where’s Tina? Where’s my sister?”

Her eyes continued to follow Mr. Graves but he didn’t respond at all to the question, to anything, his mind abuzz and shouting so intrusively she could barely catch Smith’s words.

“We tried, Queen, but, Merlin, I’m sorry,” he said, trying to hold her steady as if she’d give him hysterics if he didn’t. “I’m so sorry, doll.”

Queenie tried to ask, to say something, but the pain in her chest pulled the words back down, filling her throat with a sob in its place. Pain that wasn’t just from the man being dragged in like the prisoners he caught, but that were now coming from within and flooding her own senses. Tina was… no!

But she still felt Tina there! If the unthinkable had happened, Queenie would’ve felt it – she was sure. All she felt at that second was the inundation of pain from a man who’d lost everything. Who _thought_ he lost everything, and she was beginning to believe it too. If Tina was gone there’d be evidence of some kind and – Queenie caught images of a building aflame, the smoke reaching to high heaven.

She backed away from the twisted procession, nosy eyes weighing on her as much as on the disgraced Director. Smith let her go but stayed in place, brows furrowed in disappointment and telegraphing the defeatist thoughts flowing through his mind.

She needed to find her sister and get Mr. Graves out of chains.

She needed help.

\--

Ashes and soot were flying into his eyes. It burned, it stung, but it couldn’t erase the lithe silhouette just barely visible through the cover of poisonous smoke. It could’ve been anyone, there, but Percival knew the soft lines of her neck as it merged with her collarbones, had felt the curve of those hips under the heat of his fingers. That was his Tina and he was going to get her out.

A slick, bloodied hand had latched onto his, the hard-wired will to live burning in her grasp and he pulled, by Merlin, he pulled. But not hard enough. He had Tina’s hand. HE HAD HER. She was right there, her perfume rising to meet him even in the thick smoke, and then she wasn’t.

Her scream, a plea for help and howl of betrayal, would never leave him. A sound she emitted because he didn’t hang on. Because he failed.

And if he’d just held on a little longer, if he tried a little harder and-

“Mr. Graves.”

-If he’d just stopped her from that maddening idea of going into any of that in the first place, as if the mission mattered! A place filled with traitors and criminals, enemies of their own kind and Tina pushed on because of him. She did it all for him. Because he showed her terrible memories no one had the right to see, because he let her in where no one else had and gave her the suicidal idea of doing any of that to help him. Him, a failure, a nobody; someone the history books would rip apart. Someone –

“…Mr. Graves?”

-Someone who didn’t deserve to have so many people forfeit their lives for his.

Lopez, a confident but quiet Senior Auror who took on the task of getting Grindelwald to prison. Who was betrayed, under Percival’s own nose, and made to die for it, leaving his lover to find his desecrated corpse.

Olly and Craster, both cold and mangled by the time he rushed to the cabinet. Olly still holding onto the engagement ring he wanted to show his beloved. Craster with a picture of his wife hidden in the inside of his coat. Both dead because of him. Because he put them there to die.

The young kid from Chicago. If Percival had just stunned him and left he never would’ve died. His parents wouldn’t be getting a black letter at this moment. He died protecting his boss, and why? What the hell had Percival ever done for him?

And Tina, with those little caresses against him that alleviated his mind of any burden, who brought him peace. Peace he hadn’t known for so many years, that soothed his bones and made him happy, that centered him in the world and reminded him that enduring the darkness was worth it if she was at the end of it.

Now her sister – a kind, supportive gal - would have no one to sup with, to share a table at the mess hall, to travel the country with.

All gone.

How many families did he destroy?

_I am a monster._

“Percival.” Her voice.

He blinked, a blinding light greeting him. Too much at once. It hurt and he closed his eyes again. A simple breath drew a low whine from his throat as his lungs ached against bruised ribs. He tried to move his arms but couldn’t, a sharp pain radiating from his shoulders down to his wrist. A heavy weight was keeping them stuck to something cold and slick. It rattled. He squinted. Chains. He was in chains.

It was one of the interrogation rooms; the big one, twice the size of what they usually made home. Reserved for larger parties, or larger criminals. Mist hung above them like a lone cloud on a clear day, not unlike the one they used in the main chambers to showcase an event in real time, or in Major Investigations to examine evidence or memories.

It shouldn’t be there.

“We’re still awaiting an answer, Mr. Graves.”

Picquery sat, oozing elegance and polish across a disheveled man who may as well have been dragged out of a gutter. If there was ever a crueler show of the state of his life, he hadn’t known it.

And she had him sitting on the wrong side of an interrogation table.

He wanted to be surprised that his childhood friend had sided with the world’s most dangerous wizard. He dearly wanted to let the cold realization pool in the pit of his stomach, but it didn’t. There was just an odd sense of detachment from it all, as if he were floating above and watching his own life unfold. He should be angry, he should be distraught. Tina was dead, he was arrested, Grindelwald was free and it was over. He should feel _something_ , shouldn’t he?

“ _Mr. Graves_. Are you going to continue wasting our time? Answer the question.”

Answer?

To what?

It was too bright, it was too much. His heart may have been silenced, but his nerves were not. He tried to shrug but every nerve on his back jolted awake at the mere thought of it. Dislocated shoulder. He shouldn’t move it.

He did anyway.

“What,” he started, a boyish squeak that hurt against his dry throat. He didn’t bother wetting it. “What was the question?”

She looked somewhere behind him, giving the poor soul her most annoyed look, before turning her attention back to him.

“At approximately eight thirty-seven this morning you used magic in the presence of a no-maj crowd,” the President said, across from him, hands crossed and not a sign of pity anywhere in her eyes. It was as if all warmth had drained from the woman he once joked about marrying if they were both still forty and single. “Do you deny it?”

Magic. No-maj. The fire. He shot so much water at that fucking building but nothing, the fire never went out. It was just there, consuming, thriving in his presence – laughing at him. And no one did anything to help him. No one-

“ _Percy_. You are testing my patience.”

He slumped against the chair, his mouth suddenly so dry. A dull, annoying ache pushed at his skull. “No.”

It was barely audible, a mere whimper that bounced off the walls of the interrogation room.

Soft shuffling sounds followed his answer, from somewhere behind him. This wasn’t just between him and the President. Of course she would invite a crowd to witness this. And while he wanted to see who these unwelcome guests were, he didn’t have the ounce of energy necessary to move.

“You continued to do this despite my warnings against it. Do you deny it?”

“No,” he said again, this time a little louder, a little stronger. “No.”

And he didn’t regret it. Not a single second of it.

There were a few scratches against parchment before that piece was quickly discarded to the back of the pile. A heavy stack of papers that he could see had a copy of his ID attached to it, featuring a less grizzled, smooth-faced man that he didn’t even recognize anymore.

It was a criminal file.

“Smith – his wand, if you would.”

More movement behind him, a firm presence sliding by and depositing Percival’s wand on the table, but just out of his reach. He met Smith’s eyes, expecting the same cold indifference, or even glaring hatred but found a focused resistance instead. Righteous anger, and not directed at him.

If Smith was on his side did that mean –

He snatched a look behind him, as far as his shoulder would allow and found familiar faces also covered in the remains of the fire, wearing sympathy with every breath.

“The Spell Detection team has had quite a time with it with this morning,” she drawled, twirling the fine object between her hands. A spark of something burned within him for that moment and he grasped it. That was _his_ wand. And she was _playing_ with it, like it was a toy, like it was _hers_. “We’ve found quite a lot of interesting spells coming out of it. Wouldn’t you say?”

Percival tried to move his hands but found the weight too heavy to bear against the throbbing joint. He settled for straightening up against the hard chair not meant for his comfort. “Entertain me.”

Picquery looked like she was about to reprimand him; not a first. But she caught herself. “We detected that on Sunday, December nineteenth at approximately eleven thirty-eight in the evening that you altered the Real Time Hex Indicator to point to a specific spell. The ‘Patronus’ Charm to be exact. Do you deny it?”

“No,” It was the strongest ‘No’ he’d given so far and more hushed whispers behind him. He continued, breathing life into the growing flame within him. “An Auror – an Assistant Director’s life was in danger. I acted.”

“Only answer my question Mr. Graves-”

Percival raised his voice and his head, locking their eyes together. “And I would’ve done the same for anyone else here.”

A sharp sting exploded against his cheek, throwing his head aside but he didn’t utter a sound. Immediately the air around him shifted, but he couldn’t tell if the huddled team drew their wands.

“How dare you lie to your team?” It was said in a whisper, but one meant for everyone to hear if they just stepped in a little, if they quieted down. It worked. “You did that because of who she is to you. For the past week you’ve been consorting with a subordinate-”

“Assistant. Director,” he exhaled against sense, the chains rattling as he seized the flame, if only for a moment. “She had-has a name. Tina. Tina Goldstein.”

It was the first time since they sat him in that chair that he acknowledged her as real, that he forced himself to tie the name with a face that couldn’t rescue him anymore. And, it brought his floating, wandering mind down; to the grimy reality it tried so hard to escape from.  Each syllable of her name shot a bolt through his heart, but he embraced the pain, the sorrow chipping away at his foundation. He would not let her be forgotten at MACUSA, because she mattered. Her contributions, to her job, to him. They meant something and he was not about to let that go forgotten or tainted.

“A subordinate, Percival,” Picquery hissed. “Do you deny it?”

“ _Not one bit_.”

And now there were audible gasps. Picquery straightened, looking all too satisfied with the reactions from the crowd.  She continued. “We still have a prisoner in custody who is in a coma that he may never wake up from – all from your hands, I might add-”

“A traitor to all of us!”

Another sharp slap filled the room but there were no gasps in surprise behind him. His face was on fire; his heart pounding and rushing to fight a battle he could not win. Not with Picquery, not with himself.

“The two of you went galivanting to London on a failed mission that embarrassed MACUSA. And you weren’t done were you, Percival? You raised our Exposure level this morning on another failed mission you embarked on.”

He shook his head, managing a weak whisper that he hoped they could all hear. “In the absence of the President, her second in command may raise the Exposure level,” he started, narrowing his eyes at the traitor across from him. “Where _were_ you this morning, ‘Phina?”

She raised a single brow in response, a taunt if he’d ever seen one. “Trying to repair the mess you left us with, _Percy_. A mess created because you think you’re above the very same laws and procedures that we are all expected to abide by. How many more, I wonder?”

“I’m not above the law.”

“Then show us your memories,” she said, lining the fingers of both hands tip-to-tip. “Prove your innocence.”

“Where were you this morning?” He asked again.

There was a quick twinkle in her eyes as she looked over his shoulder again as they both decided to ignore each other’s questions. “Smith, prepare Mr. Graves for memory extraction.”

He should’ve known this would happen; should’ve prepared for it.

Smith came around, barely gripping his wand, eyes darting wildly between Picquery and himself. When he met Percival’s gaze, he turned away before the fear of the situation at hand could show.

_He doesn’t want to do this._

He knows this is wrong – all of it – and not just because it doesn’t follow any semblance of protocol. For God’s sake, Percival was a beaten and bloody pulp – he needed to be sent to the infirmary before being placed under the hot lights of that room and they all knew it.

“Smith?” Picquery called out again, indignant. “We’re waiting.”

One of the Aurors behind Smith gripped his wand a little tighter but Smith was not aware of this. If he didn’t follow Picquery’s orders, the man was sure as dead. Maybe not at that moment, maybe not even that day, but giving himself up as a loyal captain to a sinking ship would drown him sooner or later. Not just him – but any of the Aurors behind him. If Grindelwald had Picquery in the palm of his hand then it was only a matter of time before they took away all the interlopers.

He needed to do something that wouldn’t turn his Aurors against him, but would give Picquery the confidence to not bump off any more of them. The plan, shoddy and improvised, danced across his mind and he seized it. No one else would die that way, not for him.

Smith drew closer and in the blink of an eye, Percival threw all his weight at the confused Auror and against the wall, wrestling his wand away. Chaos erupted – all Aurors rushing in but not attacking. A spell flew to his head and Percival pushed Smith in its way before firing off one stunner after another. At his own team, half too shocked to dare attack him until-

He was blasted off his feet and into the wall, losing sight of the world as each broken and bruised part of him stirred, pissed off at having been so rudely wakened.

Picquery’s voice carried across the room. “Bring him back. Drag him if you must.”

Percival would not go in without a fight. The reluctant Aurors, picking the worst time to find their true allegiance, tried to do their job but he thrashed and swung away as hard as he could. The cruel reality was that, even in this state he could feel their hands weren’t taking him as hard as they could, that they avoided touching his damaged shoulder. But they had to play pretend for the merciless audience of one. Percival had to, for all of them if he must.

It didn’t take much to take him back to the chair, not when every part of him begged for rest, for care, for any semblance of sympathy.

Picquery continued as if nothing had happened. “Unfortunately, Mr. Graves, you leave me little choice but to do this, for the safety of MACUSA. For all of us.”

_For the greater good_ , she must’ve wanted to say.

She turned his own wand to him, and without saying a word shot a burst of emerald at his chest that had him howling in pain as hot knives sliced at his flesh until he felt well and truly scalped. If his eyes hadn’t been wide open in shock, he would’ve believed every inch of his flesh had just been singed off his body to leave a mess of muscle and bone. It was happening again, Merlin, he thought he left the world of that suffocating briefcase. But he never did, and it never left him either.

He snatched another look at his Aurors, half frozen with a horrified, gaping mouths but no one ran to his aid.

_Good_ , he thought, solemnly, and forced his eyes back at Picquery. This was between them. As it should be.

Her _Crucio_ was far more painful than Grindelwald’s. With Grindelwald, at least he was alone and left to his shame without watchful eyes of people who once admired him. Every wave of his own wand, every muttered word had him screaming in pain, for help, knowing he’d receive none. He didn’t know how long it lasted, only that when the onslaught finally ended, he had half of his face pressed into the metal table. There was muffled talking, from above, from behind, but it was all gibberish to him. He managed to find enough energy to look up, to where most of the noise erupted from.

The cloud above him was alive.

An image of him, clearly altering the hex indicator.

Tina ice skating ahead of him. The fall. Curing his hand.

A passionate kiss in the middle of London that took his breath away. No one was ever supposed to see that; it was a moment that was uniquely theirs. 

The raging panic attack inside the Silent Owl. The men he killed.

And the worst of all of them – Grindelwald sitting in front of him inside Tina’s apartment. Grindelwald’s toxic words - _“Like a partner”_ – rung over and over again.

The weight of his eyelids tried to overwhelm any sense of self-preservation. There was nothing left to save. It was over. He tried to focus on the words hanging above them, catching little snippets of ‘ _his instability put us all in danger_ ’ or worse, ‘ _will need to change the topic of tomorrow’s hearing_ ’. The word treason wasn’t said – or he didn’t hear it – but he was sure that’s what she was skirting to. Embarrassing Percival in front of his Aurors was one step, building insecurity around his leadership was another, and then a full blown accusation would be last _._ Picquery wanted to paint him as a monster, and, it wasn't hard. He practically handed it to her with the events of that week, with the number of deaths under his care.

And really, wasn't he a monster, after everything?

_How many families did you destroy?_

Percival tried to move, just a little, just an inch, but his whole body screamed in pain. Death couldn’t possibly be worse than this, could it? Maybe this wasn’t so bad. They would find him guilty of treason or some other bullshit and lead him into a hasty and painless execution. He wouldn’t feel a thing. He’d be free. Merlin, he’d finally be free.

A little part of him struggled against the idea, but he couldn’t understand why it was so shameful. He just wanted to stop hurting.

“…And as for Ms. Goldstein, make sure she is thoroughly discharged.”

Percival’s ear perked at the name. Tina. Discharged?

“What?” He managed, trying to lift his head. It stung like a bitch. He stayed down.

“Protocol, Percy. A difficult word for you lately,” she sighed, bored. “Ms. Goldstein broke about as many laws as you did. Her records will be stripped.”

_Stripped?!_ No, not to Tina. She worked so hard to make up for her demotion, it couldn’t-

“You can’t,” he growled, his voice shattered and dry. “She’s innocent.”

“Percy,” Picquery said in her most frustrated tone. “You can’t do a shred of wandless magic – which is a danger to the entire wizarding community and your own team - and never bothered to tell me? But _she_ knew?”

“Under my orders to keep quiet.” Percival lied with whatever strength he still had, against the cold metal where his blood and saliva pooled and wet the rest of his face.

“And against mine. Ms. Goldstein just couldn’t resist the pull of rebelliousness, now could she? And sleeping with her boss? I should have never reinstated her.”

“I told her to keep quiet,” Percival continued through grating teeth. “I threatened her; I forced myself on her.”

Picquery’s arched brows showed nothing but a silent contentment with the situation. “Then we can add rape to your gross negligence and treason charges. Now,” she began again, casually. “She had the choice to report you. Multiple times and she chose not to – a betrayal if I’ve ever seen one-”

“No.”

“-and thus, as is customary for traitors, her name will be struck from the Auror registry-”

“NO!”

“-there will be no memorial, no services, and no honors. Any merits are hereby forfeit.”

She had Tina’s records in her hand and with a simple snap of her fingers, the ink melted down the parchment, blank, as if it were always blank, _as if she didn’t exist_ -

Percival jerked against his binds, throwing himself at the real traitor in the room before a vicious _Crucio_ smashed into his chest and sent him flying back into the little chair. It hurt – the flaming nerves all over his body told him it did – but the ache deep in his chest had him ignoring the curse and leaping up again, against all logic and any sense because _she deserved better_. She fought for him, she died for him; she would get a fucking plaque like any of them did. Even if he could never visit, she deserved a peaceful plot in the mountains, with the others. He was not-

Another curse threw him back down, but human hands jerked him back up, throwing him back to the bony chair. If it was Picquery or an Auror, he couldn’t tell – but the hand suddenly curling through his hairs and slamming his head down to the table was certainly the President’s.

“Remember this, Percy,” she spat, low enough for only both to hear. “This is your fault. All of-”

“Madam President?”

It was DeSoto’s wary voice, sneaking through the door. The firm grip she had on his scalp calmed.

“I believe I ordered no interruptions-”

“Yes, but Mr. Ogden is here, and he’s not alone,” he said, louder. He must’ve stepped in the room completely. “They want to see Mr. Graves.”

“Did you tell them that he’s a bit indisposed right now?”

Silence. If he ever hoped to get any respect from his Aurors, that path was surely dead. His entire body still shuddered against his chains as the rational part of him still tried – and failed - to process the horrors he just witnessed.

“Yes. But, they’re not accepting that excuse.”

Picquery was grimacing, he could tell without even seeing an inch of her face. She was considering him, DeSoto, and the shitty situation at hand. Percival had made sure to call Bob at the same minute he found the cabinet had been breached, even knowing that such international cooperation was unheard of. It wasn’t like he was attached to protocol anymore; not at this point. However, to have the President of MACUSA suddenly tell off the highest officials of the Ministry of Magic in the middle of an emergency would be nothing short of unwise. The photographers and reporters from _The Ghost_ were probably still upstairs, milking all the delightful pictures they had gotten of him in chains, and they would love nothing more than to report such a confrontation in the atrium.

She knew this as well as he did.

“I never liked that brute,” she sighed. “Guard the door, open it only for me. Is that clear?”

“Crystal clear, Madam.”

He felt her steps echoing against the small chamber, around him, until she was out and the door shut, leaving Percival to the raging machine of his own mind.

That woman – that _monster_ – knew that Percival was facing death or insanity every day under Grindelwald’s ‘care’. He slept in his own filth. Lived a month filled with a reality no MACUSA handbooks prepared any of them for, but none as great as knowing that she was one of the many behind it all. It made sense. How else would no one have noticed?

Because she was there to smooth over any fucking inconsistencies.  

Now that bitch wanted to wipe Tina from MACUSA’s history. If anything gave Percival the motivation to break out of those chains, to fight back, it would be to defend her honor and what she stood for. He could deal with the history books referring to him as a failure; he could not deal with Tina being remembered the same way. Not after everything she did for him and for no benefit other than his own.

The door suddenly blew open, the screeching metal shrieking against the explosion that shocked his bones.

“In here, hurry! He’s hurt bad.”

DeSoto’s rushed voice and now a stampede of steps filed into the room.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” the grizzly man mumbled before stepping up to Percival. “Not your best week, is it?”

“Jay. You’re late.”

Another couple of steps, sharp but light against the hard floor. “Alright, the lemmings fell for it. Some men are so easy,” Queenie’s voice filled the room before a familiar hand fell to his unhurt shoulder. “We’ll get you out of here, sweetie, just hold on.”

Oh God, Queenie. Did she know? Did she know it was his fault? She should _hate_ him, she should hit him-

“Listen to me,” she took his face, dirty with blood and soot and soiling her impeccable hands but she didn’t seem to mind. “Whatever happened wasn’t your fault.”

She wiped the dry blood decorating his temple, slowing whenever he flinched. He was about to respond when Jacobs shoved something soft in his mouth – his own handkerchief, plucked from his waistcoat pocket - and instructed him to bite down and sit back and, out of instinct, he did. This was clearly not something Picquery would approve of and if she knew-

Jacobs took his arm with the firm Healer grip he knew too well and _pushed_. A sharp snap filled his skull and the world turned white for a very long second. Whatever sound he made must’ve been terrifying because all three occupants in the room had stopped talking completely and just _stared_. But the pain that nagged at his arm for the entire interrogation was nothing but a memory.

Jacobs pulled the cloth from Percival’s gaping mouth and stuffed it back in his pocket. “You’re far from perfect, darling, but it’ll do for now. Kid, can you get his cuffs?”

DeSoto rushed over, a simple twist of his wand unlocking the heavy metal around his wrists which fell to the ground with a heavy bang.

“Come on, let’s get him out,” DeSoto said, handing Percival his jacket, heavy with the case folder still in there. And his wand. Slick and smooth and a relief around his fingers. “Before she comes back.”

“Not yet, not yet,” Jacobs kneeled, pushing up Percival’s trousers with all the patience of a seasoned prostitute paid by the job and not the hour. It was nothing like Tina’s cautious touch but he started wrapping something around his knee, mumbling hurried words that brought a soothing cool to everything the bandage touched. The white turned to a colder blue with each repeated whisper. “There. Not quite new, but you can walk. Try not to run yet-”

“She’ll kill you,” Percival whispered, looking at the rescuers that had gathered around him. “If she catches you, she’ll try you for treason and there’s _nothing_ I can do.”

Jay offered him a hand. “Yeah, and?”

“I… I can’t.”

Percival shrunk back into the seat, examining the brave men and women in front of him.

Four people had died following his orders, trying to help him that day.

He couldn’t allow any more.

“Sweetie, if you stay here, more will die,” Queenie reasoned, taking his blemished hand into hers. “We need you.”

Percival laughed, something angry and bitter that took her smile away. “You need to stay far away from me. If Tina did, if…”

DeSoto looked outside a moment before popping his head back in. “I think they’re coming back – we need to go!”

“I don’t think she’s gone,” Queenie whispered. “I don’t-”

“ _I saw it myself, Queenie_ ,” he growled, refusing to let himself hope against reason. “I had her, and then she slipped, I let her go, I-”

Something moved outside, from far outside the room and he nearly choked at the sight.

It was her.

Those chestnut eyes locked on, shining with the smile on her whole face. It was still a delicacy to him but he recognized it anywhere. Her cheeks, her hands, her once pristine blouse were filled with soot and the area by her stomach was a distinctly dark shade of red. Merlin, she was bleeding – she had a stomach wound. She should _absolutely_ not be standing so casually.

He blinked, expecting the image to fade, but found her smile wider, as if she hadn’t seen him in ages.

She was not a translucent, blue-ish figure like the resident ghost in Ilvermorny, but a real person, flushed with color and life.

She was alive!

“Tina!” He struggled off the young Auror and tired Healer, eyes trained on the woman just across the hall urging him on.

Queenie took his arm, the softest touch out of all of them and the only one that stopped him. “Mr. Graves?”

“She’s right-right there, I just saw her. She wants us to follow.”

She was running! The mad woman; she was wounded and running and that was not what he taught her. She was running but kept turning back to urge him on, to hurry, to catch up to her.

Percival ran, but only one set of footsteps clapped against the ground.

Each step sent a diminished spark of pain through his entire leg but he ran. His rescuers were yelling behind him, they were catching up but they weren’t stopping him. Tina was just up ahead, he was just so close and he called to her, he yelled as hard as he could for her to stop but she didn’t!

“Wait! Mr. Graves, this isn’t the right way, there are Aurors everywhere-”

DeSoto was panicking behind him but he continued, through the aches, because he was so close. He didn’t know how he could say that when no other Aurors got in their way even once as they went through the heavy pillars, not a soul in sight. Tina suddenly snapped left, to the most populated set of stairs and now even Percival had to stop. Surely there were Aurors there, weren’t there?

She sensed his mistrust and stopped, still urging him on. She was speaking, yelling it seemed but he heard nothing from it.

“Tina, I-” he started, catching his breath. He followed her lips – saying a short, two-syllabled word, repeatedly. “Are you sure?”

“Who’s he talking to?” Jacobs whispered behind him.

Tina had already moved out of sight and Percival took off again.

They were up to the stairs, his wand at the ready for trouble when another familiar face gasped at their sudden appearance.

Nell Wallis, carrying that day’s copy of _The New York Ghost_.

They all just stared at him but no one made a move.

Nell looked both ways, nodded at the people behind Percival, and stuffed the paper into his back pocket like he had a nasty habit of doing. “Take the east hall – the President pulled all the Aurors out of there a few minutes ago.”

He muttered a thank you and made a mental note to get that kid a damn fine Christmas present if they weren’t all executed for treason before Saturday.

They made their way through the quiet halls, Tina’s running body way up ahead, but still moving too. He couldn’t stop. He needed to reach her, to make sure she was alright, that her wound was taken care of. Jacobs probably had something on him to help, if she would only stop and let him help.

She was now going _down_ a set of stairs that Percival recognized as the same ones they took to get out of the building undetected for The Silent Owl mission. They only got colder and colder as they descended even further into the bowels of the building, the warmth of the magic in the walls fading to mere stone.

By the time Percival reached the emergency exit, she was nowhere to be seen and Percival burst through the door to find nothing but the setting sun staring right back at him.

Not even wet prints on the steps outside. Nothing.

“Where the hell are we?” Jacobs asked, panting and coughing his lungs out.

“No-maj exit. I’ve been here before – with her,” he said, head spinning from side to side, still searching. He knew what he saw and he knew it sounded insane. “Queenie, where would she go?”

“I- Mr. Graves, she wasn’t here. There was no one there.”

“She looked right at me – she was trying to talk to me but someone must’ve silenced her. I’m not crazy!”

…Which was what every insane person ever told him. He put on his jacket, held onto his wand just a little tighter and turned to face the people who had every right to call him a lunatic.

DeSoto stepped up, hat in hand, and far too green for such a dangerous escape. “Sir, there was no one else. Just us.”

“No,” Percival shook his head, too vigorously, something pinched along his spine and – _ah fuck!_ “I saw her! I know what I saw. I-”

He reached into his jacket pocket for the mirror, to reach her, but nothing-

Mirror. She was saying mirror.

The building! The burnt down building – that’s what she was trying to tell him. The mirror was there and she needed him to grab it – but why?

It didn’t make a lick of sense, but if Tina had managed to apparate at the last minute, she could have found safety before finding him at MACUSA again. But why couldn’t he hear her? She was yelling her lungs out, and she didn’t seem to be in any pain but she also clearly was not a ghost.

It didn’t make sense, but Percival needed to believe she was alive, somewhere, somehow.

What he saw was not his mind’s crazy machinations. It was not.

_I’m not crazy._

“Queenie, Jay, I need you two to go back and blend in before they notice you two are gone. These stairs will take you back up – follow the magic,” he said, his mind suddenly awake and the famed Director taking over again. “DeSoto, you do the same, but, figure out who we can still trust, who hasn’t turned on me yet. We need to mount a counter-attack, but I need people.”

“But sir-”

“No buts. You’re a good Auror, Roscoe. We’re counting on you.”

Grabbing his wand, a light but reassuring weight in his hands, he disapparated as his rescuers continued to protest his orders.

The chaos from before had not dissipated even a bit. No-maj police, wearing the weight of their jobs, had cordoned off the ruined building from a crowd of curious bystanders, all with their own theories on why the building suddenly erupted in flames. It was fascinating to watch their minds trying to reason away magic with pitiful excuses that all sort of made sense, but never under further scrutiny. An isolated kitchen fire would never have exploded that quickly, and gas leak? How? But to no-maj trying to pretend their world didn’t exist, it made sense.

Percival slipped through the guards with ease, a simple Disillusionment Charm rendering him invisible to them, and started making his way up the stairs. The charred steps creaked with his weight and he was reminded of just how unsafe this was – and inadvisable. The whole thing could give out at any moment, sending Percival crashing many stories to his death, but he continued up the floors laced with ash and soot that only became denser the further he got to the fire.

His heart was pounding in his ears as he got closer to the fifth floor. It was silly, but he called out to her one more time, because maybe, just maybe she would be waiting for him.

“Please, love,” he whispered as he opened the door to the corridor. “Please.”

Half the floor was still missing, but without the smoke weighing him down, he could navigate around it, to the only door still open. He immediately recognized the body lying on its back by the entrance, burnt, but not charred. Dawlish. Another one of Grindelwald’s people who chose to die under their new leader rather than-

Percival froze.

Her wand.

Broken, in two, not even a foot from his body; its white core poking through the center.

Apparating without a wand was near impossible. It was too imprecise for a type of magic where precision meant life or death. Even he didn’t dare attempt it. If she didn’t have her wand, if-

_She couldn’t have gotten away._

He shoved the thought aside – the mirror. He came for the mirror because she told him to and he knew what he saw.

Percival looked down the hole that nearly swallowed the rest of the apartment, to the floor where the fire originated, and with the broken pieces of her wand, he jumped down. It was nearly obscured under charred wood and twisted remains personal belongings, and, it was broken. A hard, misshapen line ran through it, from top to bottom and Percival opened his mouth to call to her, to try, to-

_No. Gods no, please._ There, by the corner, was a body, curled into itself. Charred and completely unrecognizable, outside of small breasts and a slender shape, but it belonged to a woman. Percival fell back, against the darkened wall, reaching, grasping for something to center him but there was nothing. Hands shaking, he clutched the remains of the maple wand like a precious heirloom, dropping the mirror. It cracked further, but he didn’t look. Couldn’t turn away even if he wanted to. Her face may have been obscured but Percival could see it had been frozen in fear; in pain.

All because, all because-

The words caught at his throat, now a lump that had him gasping for air.

He tried to reach out, to touch her, as if it would help but could only watch as his body recoiled in horror at what was his mind was forced to realize was his lover.

_I’m sorry_ , his mind shouted what his tongue couldn’t release. _Tina, I-Gods, I’m sorry_.

He clutched the mirror again, seeing only his bent and broken reflection. It’s why he couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t hear her. Why her footsteps made no noise, why she left no prints – inside or out. Why no one else could see her.

Because she was gone. It was over, and nothing would change it. It was-

Percival didn’t even notice he was apparating until the image in front of him blurred and faded to white before reshaping to the foyer of his home, where his knees buckled and he collapsed onto the hard tile.

_(He was walking – running – to the infirmary, Queenie’s news still humming in his chest, forever etched into his mind. Tina was awake, she was moving, and it didn’t look like there was any permanent damage from the curse._

_It was a miracle._

_There were a million things to say. An apology, for one, should be the first thing out of his mouth. An apology for the harsh words that came tumbling out the previous night and every other venom-stained sentence he ever uttered to her._

_He nearly pushed down several Healers, and when he finally saw the door to her room in the distance, he didn’t bother knocking – he tumbled in, every word of regret at the tip of his tongue and-_

_She was standing right there. Wearing a more conservative blouse, with actual buttons leading up to her neck, holding that ghastly coat in front of her like a shield. Merlin, it didn’t even look like a deadly curse had hit her twelve hours ago. Not with her skin glistening like porcelain against mid-day sun, shining behind her and leaving a glow at the edges that gave the impression of something divine; an angel, perhaps, as the no-maj called them. An angel sent to save him, from Grindelwald, from himself._

_And then her arms were suddenly around him, hands tightening against skin and muscle in a tight hug.  Her soft breath was suddenly on his neck and Percival melted onto the angel with the intoxicating perfume. For once, he yielded to the sensations washing life into him._

_So this was love.)_

_Stop. I can’t – STOP._

Percival lurched up and out, the invisible rope tied around his neck squeezing further as his feet carried him to the library. Every inch trembled like a branch in the wind; why the _hell_ was he shaking?

Another image of her lifeless body threw itself into the front of his mind as a response and he jerked it away, pulling at his own hair in despair. He needed something to occupy his mind – anything.

A book. Merlin, he needed a damn book. There was autobiography of the founder of _The New York Ghost_ that he’d been meaning to read for years now, dusty, somewhere in the library. That was a good one. The man was a vicious, ambitious asshole who threw everyone under a train – literally – to stand on top at the industry. This was good. It was what he needed. A good, distracting book and-

The writing desk at the center was graced by two chairs. Two. One of them didn’t belong there, it wasn’t even a chair. It had been pulled out, as if she’d kicked it back momentarily to hop into the kitchen for a minute and get some coffee, maybe a sandwich, before returning to her work. Her quill – _his_ quill – still sat at the edge of parchment, truly as if she was about to come running back from the kitchen at any moment, as if-

The rope pulled tighter, the edges of the world fading as he stumbled back into the hall.

The kitchen, yes. He should make himself something. He hadn’t cooked real food in so long it was about time he started again. He had some cookbooks in there and his pantry wasn’t completely empty. There was hope there, there was-

An aluminum pan holding half of an apple pie.

A set of plates from the dinner they both barely touched that Sunday night, in the sink.

The mug she was drinking out of when he yelled at her.

All frozen in time.

Percival fell out of the kitchen, heart kicking against his chest as he landed in his living room.

The same living room she fell asleep on his shoulder. Where she pulled him from the depths of a grueling nightmare and held him through the night. A place he ignored for so long, but now had a reason to go into – to enjoy with her.

_Stop, please, stop_ , Percival begged to no one as his legs carried him away from the haunted room. Upstairs. He needed to get away, to find a way out of all this because it’s too much – it’s – she’s everywhere. Why the fuck did he ever let her into his house – into his heart – it’s too much, he can’t –

He’s rushing up the stairs, the portraits are saying something but he can’t hear any of it, only her sweet voice whispering in his ear, and – he needs to get away, anywhere – his room.

But he can’t even get near it. There, by the door, Tina had stood holding that slice of pie of him. It was there that she stood after he’d shook the entire house awake with a nightmare, determined to make him a potion, to make him better.

The invisible rope tightened again, drawing long-forgotten tears from his eyes, where they blurred the world again and-

_No-no-no._

Percival flew into the nearest room, shutting the door behind him but there was no relief.

The bed wasn’t made, the covers were thrown aside, the feather-stuffed pillow completely mushed. A half-empty vial of Dreamless Sleep on the nightstand. A fresh set of clothes hung in the closet, pressed and ready to be worn.

It was her room.

Looking as if she still lived there. With him.

He bit down on his lip but it didn’t make the tears go away. It didn’t untie the rope from his neck. It didn’t do anything but give him the bitter taste of blood for the second time that day.

_I can’t do this. I can’t – Merlin, I can’t-_

Percival pulled out his wand and pressed it to his own temple and swallowed.

He didn’t want to remember. Didn’t want to close his eyes and see her skating in the ice in front of him, wearing a smile prompted by something he did. Didn’t want to see her gasping her last breaths, reaching for a man she trusted who let her down, let her fall to the flames.

“Obliv-” Percival started, the rest of the letters falling apart at his lips.

_(“It’s a beautiful night,” Tina squeezed his hand, looking up at the black sky above, devoid of any stars. “Wouldn’t you say?”_

_“I’ve seen better,” he muttered, thinking of the bright skies in Colorado, of the long nights spent on his back along the hills just naming constellations and wasting time with his friends. “But, it’s not bad for New-”_

_She suddenly pressed him against worn bricks, considering him a moment before slotting their lips together, marking him like property as they both grew breathless somewhere in the middle of Manhattan._

_“What was that about?” Percival finally asked, adjusting his rapidly filling bulge so no one would see. The sudden acts of intimacy were still a breath of fresh air for his body and he reacted like a damn teenager. “Not that I mind, of course.”_

_“I don’t know if we’ll get another chance tonight, with my sister and all,” Tina briefly looked up and he realized, they’d arrived. Her nose nudged his again, hinting at another kiss, and he understood. “I did miss you too, you know.”)_

“Obliv-” He started again, snapping his eyes shut until the tears he’d held at his lashes fell, slowly following some imaginary line down his cheeks before hanging limp at the bottom of his jaw.

_(They were both beginning to drift in and out of consciousness, but Percival held her tight. Whenever his mind would begin to stray into the comfort of sleep, he’d pull himself back and squeeze her mid-section a little harder, would bury his nose into her messy hair or bruised neck. It just felt so nice, for once, to hold onto another person that cared so much for him. That he loved in return. He didn’t want sleep to rob him of this moment._

_“I like this,” she whispered it so softly he wasn’t sure he really heard it. “It’s nice. I feel safe, with you.”_

_She layered a hand over his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to keep holding on._

_He hummed in agreement, kissing the back of her neck for what must’ve been the twentieth time that night, tasting that mix of her own musk and her perfume. Heaven, if there ever was one._

_“Can we do this every night?” Another whisper, almost sounding like it came from the depths of sleep._

_“Yes,” he affirmed with another kiss. He felt her soft curves against his own brutish build, the wild hair he’d held onto for dear life, the supple breasts that alone could get him ready for a third round. And, he breathed again, “Absolutely.”)_

“Obli-ob- _fuck_!”

His wand fell from between his fingers as if it stung him and Percival recoiled in horror at what he almost did.

“ _I don’t want this_ ,” he shouted into the room; _her_ room, “I just-FUCK!”

His chest was being ripped to pieces, worse than anything Grindelwald had ever done to him in that little room. Forgetting would wipe it all out. He would wake up in a few hours, dumb and oblivious; her smile a mere face in the New York morning rush, her name just letters on parchment.

“I wish you never met me,” he rasped in a vicious tone, biting on his knuckle, meaning for it to hurt, to ground him back to reality but it didn’t work. “I wish you never went to that fucking presentation. I wish you never joined the program. Because then- then you’d be, you’d be-”

_Alive_ , he answered. Alive and happy with someone who deserved her, curing diseases he never even dreamed of. A brilliant, successful witch he’d read about in the paper and would never have had to suffer like she did under him all those years. An Auror’s life was nothing but a cruel joke, an unending amount of pain and risk and to what end? What had either of them gained?

Nothing. Just scrutiny from the paper. Anger from the victim’s families for not doing enough. Yelling from Seraphina. Nothing remotely positive. Nothing but tired, aching bones. And fuck, he was so _tired_. At that moment he didn’t want to hunt Grindelwald or his people, to find Bob and join forces. He just wanted to close his eyes and _forget_. Even for just one fucking minute.

_(“It can’t be removed,” Jacobs gasped, wrestling with the green spell running through Tina’s veins. It shrieked worse than a banshee whenever the old man so much as pulled at its greedy tendrils. “It feeds off magical energy so violently it breaks the person from inside, it won’t leave unless it’s recalled, or until it’s done feeding,” he lowered his wand, eyes sunken in a way Percival knew too well. “I’m sorry.”_

_Tina, calm and graceful in sleep in a way she never was in the office, had no clue that curse sentenced her to death. A curse not even meant for her, that she took for him. Her last words on this earth were a cry for help – for him to save her. And he couldn’t do anything. Could only watch as her breaths became shallower with the passing of time until they would eventually stop altogether._

_No. There had to be a way – there was always a way. Think, Percival. The curse feeds on magical energy. It was parasitic, attaching itself to a host until it drained them like a vampire._

_But even vampires found other ‘hosts’. If the curse found another suitor, if-_

_“Can you transfer it?”_

_“What? I suppose, in theory it could. But Percival – if you take it-”_

_“Grindelwald’s curse causes an overload on my hands, doesn’t it? I can lure it – I can take it, and trap it there. Grindelwald essentially created a prison in my hands that only a wand can pass through,” Percival was rambling so quickly he wasn’t even sure it made sense. “Jacobs, we can save her.”_

_He shook his head. “Are you off your rocker? It could kill you – I am not about to bury MACUSA’s man of steel!”_

_Tina gasped, suddenly, face twisting in pain as something else snapped._

_“Jay,” he snapped. “It won’t. Please. Help me save her.”)_

Percival dragged himself to bed – _her_ bed - and swallowed down what was left of the Dreamless Sleep still sitting on the table before letting it roll to the floor with his wand. But he made sure to still pocket hers, a jagged but heavy weight on his thigh; a reminder, if he ever needed it. He didn’t even see where his wand was. Didn’t ward the house. It didn’t matter. With a heavy sigh that stung his throat, he buried his head into the pillow. A pillow that still smelled of sweet fruits, of apple pie, of sipping tea on a London couch. Of love that he hadn’t known existed until that week.

_If this is love_ , he thought, fighting back the flood of tears that would not stop if he relented. _I don’t want it._

As he waited for sleep to take him, he swore he could feel the ghost of a gentle caress along his scalp, settling on that sensitive groove right behind his ear. The same spot where Tina always centered him. It traced the same area, touching on the short hairs before fading to bare skin. Just like she always did. He knew it was just his imagination playing another cruel trick on him, but, just for a moment, Percival nuzzled the scented pillow a little tighter. And, he let himself believe that she was right there. That if he just _looked_ he’d see her caring eyes staring right back.

“I’m not- I’m not ready to let you go.”

He wanted to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working title for next chapter is 'The Wolf and the Thunderbird'. If you can make anything out of that, then you have great guessing skills ;)
> 
> Also decided to change chapters a bit - this and the next chapter will be cut in two parts from what I imagined (so 2 extra chapters woo!). It just makes more sense for the story, you'll see. This also means the Percival angst isn't quite over yet (sorry?)
> 
> Life update - I will be embarking on a cross-country road trip in a week which may delay things, but I will try to do as much writing as I can in that time.


	23. The Thunderbird and the Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina needs a healer and a way home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! SO SO SORRY for the delay on this chapter! I basically spent a whole week driving from FL to CO and the week after enjoying the mountains (not used to that). Meaning, two weeks with very little writing, BUT, I should be back on schedule and the next chapter will come faster. 
> 
> Thanks for all the support even through my inconsistent updates!

That. Damn. Wand.

Tina, sporting Percival’s ‘pirate patch’ thanks to his healing potion’s quick fix of her nose, was practically fuming as she trudged under the starry Arizona desert towards the nearest MACUSA safehouse. Dawlish’s wand, as if knowing she was thinking about it, hummed from her pocket. It was _mocking_ her, as if botching her apparition and sending her two thousand miles west wasn’t enough of a revenge for killing its master.

Rigid Acacia, ten and a half inches, Rougarou hair core. The perfect combination for a wand so loyal that its allegiance could never be won from a fight. She didn’t want to take it, but the man left her no choice after she found her own wand in his pocket, broken in half. On purpose. Her wand, a wand she and her parents flew all the way to Arkansas to pick up. She could still see her mother, sitting in the waiting area while playing with a young Queenie, trying so hard not to show how excited she was to see her baby pick up a wand for the first time. And her father, a no-maj, stood proudly behind her as she tested wand after wand, giving her a big hug once she found a wand that produced the brightest fireworks out of all of them. A wand she’d used to produce colorful birds to distract her little sister after the death of their parents. A wand that once produced a shield charm so powerful it deflected a killing curse aimed right at Percival’s head – at a time when he was nothing but her boss.

Broken, in half, by someone who was once a friend.

And, if her suspicions were correct, not the only former friend at the building that morning.

She’d been hanging there, holding onto Percival and ready to apparate them both to safety when DeSoto - the ‘kid’ – yanked her lover from her while staring her right in the eyes. Now it could have been a mistake; she wasn’t throwing him under the bus yet, but there was something cold in his eyes that burned into her memory, and Percival was alone in New York with him and Merlin knew how many other traitors.

Tina let the rage fuel her. She would not be defeated by a slew of second rate Aurors. With shaky legs and a body that begged for rest, she took one step after the other, keeping the hole in her stomach plugged as much as she could. She tried not to think about how far she could possibly be from the safehouse, how going into shock would be a death sentence. It wasn’t over. This would not be how her story ended – in the middle of nowhere, cold and alone.

After all, who the hell would take care of grouchy old Percival if not her? The thought brought a smile to her face and she persisted, following the north star shining brightly above her.

The landscape, still dark under the night sky thanks to their timezone, was just as she remembered it. It wasn’t a pure desert like so many Aurors arrogantly believed, an image of cactus and dust with not a tree in sight. When heading north, to higher altitudes, the air cooled and the sea of tall cacti gradually became smaller, nearly disappearing altogether and turning into bushes and trees the further and further they drove away from civilization. It was reassuring to keep walking and finding the side of the road bursting with short grass and small trees. She wasn’t that far south. There was some hope.

Except, she wasn’t alone.

The first tip was the howl in the distance. A wolf or a coyote. The second hint was the gentle tapping of paws not far, somewhere behind her. And the third, and the one that had her blood chill, was the set of piercing eyes that shone under the moonlight, not a few yards from her side.

A lone, black wolf. Large in stature, but thin. It walked beside her like a dog, careful not to fall behind or walk too far ahead.

“I’m sure there’s better animals for you to chase,” Tina said to her companion. “Do you see how bony I am? I know, I’m injured and ‘weak’ and you’re trained for that, but trust me, I’m not worth it.”

It tilted its head to the side as it walked and if Tina didn’t know any better it looked like it smiled. If Newt could see this he would probably laugh and tell her she was doing it all wrong – with the eye contact and the posture. So, she looked away.

“I don’t suppose you know how far Peach Springs is,” she sighed. “Or where a gal can find some dittany? Maybe a new wand?”

The wolf kept walking, its eyes never leaving her. Maybe it was hungry. Newt probably wouldn’t frown too much at her feeding a predatory animal; he owned at least a dozen, without MACUSA permits or permits of any kind. The men in her life were certainly more difficult than she ever expected.

Tina reached into her purse, knocking over the potions she had organized alphabetically until they clinked deep within the tiny bag. Queenie always tried to pack her something in the morning, hoping it would be a good, healthy alternative to the crap Aurors usually found with grimy vendors. This poor wolf probably wouldn’t like the old pastry she found, filled with blue jelly – and lint; she hoped it was lint - but she threw it anyway.

It continued to follow, keeping a steady pace behind her as it chewed on the old thing. With its ribs showing, that was probably the best meal it had eaten that day.

Maybe it was a hallucination. She wasn’t exactly keeping track of her blood loss, so it was plausible. End of life. It shouldn’t be surprising – she’d been at the side of more than one person that was about pass, and seeing loved ones just before death’s grip wasn’t new. She just wondered when the hell Percival or Queenie ever took the image of a wolf in her mind.

And, when she turned to speak to her companion again, it was gone.

Hallucination. She wrapped her coat further against herself for any warmth against the unforgiving cold that a night in the desert brought, and she walked a little faster.

Trees began to come into view. Finally. This was a forest she’d navigated once before, but this time, there was just the faintest of lights in the distance; lights that weren’t made by humans, because they weren’t lights. They were magic, illuminating where her eye-patch made up for her dead sight. Tina trudged towards it, feet aching, sides burning, and the glittering around her grew, and with it, humming. Soft at first, a warm buzz against her toes, but present and suffocating all at once. It had a warm familiarity to it. Magic. Old, but new all the same and with such force that it shook her and brought her back to her Ilvermorny days, sitting inside that old castle with a roll of parchment on her lap.

She let her heart flutter with hope, perhaps the first positive emotion since she landed. This must be the border of the Hualapai reservation, just as she remembered from her trip with Queenie.

Tina knelt and touched the earth with her hand, asking for permission to enter, undisturbed and still hidden under the blanket of night. They had a right to refuse entry – it was their land – and it took a hell of a lot of Picquery’s negotiations to allow their safehouse to exist within their territory. The terms of the deal were sealed away in MACUSA’s archives, the details privy only to a select few, but Tina knew the concession must’ve been a big one.

The humming grew louder, a gentle buzz that shook her to the core and, before her, the rocks at her feet began to glow a bright shade of blue. Glistening blue diamonds if there was ever a thing. And with them, the shine rose through the roots of the trees, taking hold of the bark and the frail branches above. It was a beautiful sight, but to a wounded Auror, it was also a nightmare – an easy way to be spotted and Tina followed the bright path quickly, through a winding trail that led her straight to one tree that shone blood red against the others.

“Goldstein, Badge #240274,” Tina muttered, pressing her own bloodied hand to the bark. Like the ground, it too roared against her body. “Requesting entry to-”

Before she could even finish that train of thought, the rug was pulled out from under her as the world twisted again, threatening to tear her apart once more before lunch hour. It spit her out on dirt, to the sound of roaring waters and now Tina allowed herself to hope against the stabbing pain and nausea.

The safehouse. Thank Merlin, it let her go to the safehouse.

Hidden somewhere in the depths of the Grand Canyon, stuck to rock that mother nature had built over millions of years, was a wooden cabin that looked no bigger than a storage shed. A place that next to roaring rapids meant it could only be apparated to or transported magically. A _safe_ place. Tina rushed to her feet, avoiding the ice-cold water of the Colorado River raging by, and snuck into the cabin, wand up and trained at the cold abyss as she found cover by the door. She was still shivering and gripping her burning wound, but she still sought for any sign of an enemy or even a squatter.

When only silence greeted her, Tina pocketed the wand and closed her eyes to better harness the remaining magic still coursing through her. “Revelio.” She whispered, feeling her magic spread to the room and return to her without a single alert. No one.

She shut the door and with it, the sounds of the rapids and pulled the small lighter from her purse – the one used to suck all the fire out of the maze – and snapped it open, bringing light to the small cabin that wasn’t so small on the inside.

The entrance was standard. A fireplace, a writing desk, a cot, and a humongous grey Rougarou rug that stretched from one side to the other and making Tina grateful she hadn’t crossed _that_ in the desert. Even a small pantry with essentials: bread, milk, some cured meats. The front door and the window over the bed were the only exits. But, looking beyond the fireplace, the cabin stretched with crudely built shelves and drawers. Bezoars, puffskein eyes, Thunderbird tail-feathers - each labeled with a name, date, and another marking she couldn’t identify along with so many samples of woods, from every tree in North America and some she knew were from a continent away.

And, in the corner, hidden away like a badly kept secret was a drawer with the word ‘Dittany’ scratched into the wood. Tina rushed to it as if it were the holy grail itself, pulling the damn thing open hard enough to yank the drawer out completely. She wasn’t sure how she popped the little vial or even held her hand steady enough to apply it but she stuck the miracle liquid to the broken skin and waited for it to stitch together. This wasn’t a perfect solution – any injuries underneath still needed treatment – but it plugged up the hole and bought her time.

There was a batch of floo powder sitting just above the fireplace. The desk with MACUSA’s Phoenix emblazoned over it held a fancy Eagle-feather quill that she knew was a portkey. All useless with the current State of Crisis in New York blocking any magical entries.

Tina clutched the mirror turned necklace and let herself hope again. “Percival. Percival it’s me. Please answer.” She whispered, just as she had done when she first landed on the middle of the dusty road.

And, like the first time, nothing. Just deathly silence, and no strength left to send a Patronus.

She stood, not expecting the world to dance around her as she did and she quickly gripped the desk for support again. It was fine. It had to be fine.

But it wasn’t, and, once again, she was not alone. The sound of soft nails scratching on hardwood greeted her, and with it, the strange black wolf. It came in, a few feet from Tina and tilted its head, considering her again.

“You’re not allowed to use a MACUSA safehouse as your own, Madam Wolfe,” Tina gasped, still clutching at her side as she tried to stand tall. “But I really do appreciate your help.”

The black wolf yipped before its paws stretched into hands, the low figure rising to take the shape of an older woman, her age reflected only in the comb of wrinkles along her eyes. “…Rules and regulations, excuse me,” she continued, taking the dittany still in Tina’s hand. She was a good head shorter than Tina but with confidence that could shrink even the boldest Aurors. “You sound like that Director of yours. What’s his name again? Craves?”

Tina had to keep herself from smirking at the new nickname she just discovered. “Yes, that’s him.”

“Bah! Old men are worse than old women. Now come, let me take a look at you, Miss Tina,” she sighed, motioning to the cot on the corner. “You don’t look like you’ve had a good morning.”

“We don’t have time,” Tina said, opening an unlabeled drawer to find nothing but dust. “I need to get back home, and, how in the name of Merlin and Morgana do you know my name?”

Almost with a mind of its own, the floorboards dragged her back, yanking her harder the more she tried to avoid them. “Maybe I’m more than just an old wandmaker. A Seer, perhaps, capable of watching your own fate unfold in front of my eyes. Are you destined for a life of love and little ones, or the sharp bite of a short life? Maybe I can tell you,” she mused, hopping from drawer to drawer to pull out some sopophorous beans and a valerian root. “Or I’m just a humble old woman from Oklahoma who picked up your ID from the little crater you created in your grand entrance.”

She levitated the dusty old badge to Tina and it was almost comical how disgusted her picture looked at the grime sticking to the sides.

Shikoba Wolfe was something of a celebrity to Thunderbird house and wielding one of her wands was no small deal. Some said it was the one true symbol of belonging to the house; of a born leader. Stupidity if she ever heard it. Tina merely saw it for what it was – a coincidence – and treasured her wand just the same. Yet, no matter how much she read about the wandmaker, she never suspected a tiny woman with rich, dark hair in a bun and spry as a kid in a candy shop as she pulled a lump of knotgrass from storage.

“Sit, Miss Tina,” she said again, angrier. “And put that wand down. I can hear it growling at you.”

“Like its master,” Tina drawled in agreement, but she pocketed the wand instead. “Is that for a sleeping draught?”

Shikoba pulled out a small, pewter cauldron, and lit it by the bed before throwing a handful of sopophorous beans into it. “A mix of sleeping and general healing, yes,” she said, a hint of surprise in her voice. “An eye for potions?”

“You could say that – but, Madam Wolfe, I don’t think that’s the best idea right now. I need-”

“To rest. Even if it’s just an hour, your body needs it. You’re as pale as a ghost. Now, sit!”

She _felt_ like one too.

Shikoba pointed to the cot again, a sharp jab that indicated a woman with no more patience.

Frowning, Tina took a seat on the heavy wool covers. The mattress creaked under her weight and she tried not to enjoy the feeling of just relaxing for a minute; not with New York in chaos.

Her host turned, a long, bony wand of oak in hand and muttered a spell Tina remembered faintly from the infirmary. Her body suddenly felt light against the world, tingling with something akin to bliss, and Tina forced a deep breath as her body went boneless on her.

“You’ve lost enough blood for the two of us,” she said without a hint of fear at their reality. “And your magic is, how do I say this, as empty as a politician’s promise.”

She went back to the potion, stirring carefully before adding the next batch of ingredients while Tina fidgeted in place. “How long?”

“Until you die? Miss Tina, you shouldn’t _be_ alive right now, but we’ll talk about that later. Or do you mean until you’re healed? That could be days. But, moving around like a chicken without a head won’t make it go faster. Tell me, are all Aurors like this?”

“A pain in the ass to Healers? I think I’m the nicer of the bunch.”

Shikoba chuckled, stirring until the familiar sweet aroma filled the air. She took a vial from one of the many cabinets and filled it with the purple liquid before handing it to Tina.

It was dangerous to sleep with Grindelwald and his people loose. She was letting a civilian cover for her and that was irresponsible in more ways than one. It broke protocol. Still, even with Shikoba’s diagnosis on her withered magic, Tina pressed her hand to the rigid wooden wall of the safehouse and forced the strongest wards she knew. She let the warmth of her magic flow out of her fingertips and merge with the wooden panels while she thought of her sister, alone and in danger in a pit of snakes. She thought of Percival, suffering in the hands of a maniac and she _willed_ her protection; her hope. It chained with the sea of wards already keeping the little cabin hidden from no-maj eyes and when Tina finally felt satisfied with the fortress she built, she took the vial from Shikoba. The old woman looked at Tina as if she _were_ a ghost.

“Listen for a faint popping noise,” Tina warned. “Any Auror would have to apparate outside, and it’s only a narrow patch of land so they can’t land too far out. You’ll be able to hear it, and if you do, don’t try to fight them. Wake me.”

Shikoba had already turned to another series of ingredients, but nodded faintly anyway. Probably just to placate her.

This wasn’t ideal. Far from it. But with her body falling apart, Tina swallowed down the bitter potion and felt the world fade away before her head even hit the pillow.

\--

_“Percival!”_

_Tina banged her fists against the glass but she may as well have been invisible. He was walking to someone, a shadow, one calculated step after another. She’d seen that look before; of a man with a single mission in mind. Every part of him was the unraveled picture of madness, looking more like the man she pulled from the briefcase than the professional all of MACUSA knew._

_She rammed her shoulder against the glass again, calling for him but he wouldn’t turn, wouldn’t hear._

_Percival pulled his wand out of his pocket. He wielded it like a knife, slicing it through the air at the cowering figure, a bright shade of green erupting forth and now Tina screamed, but not just at the murder taking place in front of her. The moment Percival cast the disastrous spell, the floor engulfed him. Suddenly there were hundreds of shadows, all pulling him down and ripping off his suit, his skin, followed by every piece of him while he screamed in betrayal._

_A hand fell to her shoulder, icy cold and paralyzing all the same and she didn’t need to turn to see who it was. “I enjoy seeing how far a mind can be twisted and pulled before it breaks – if it breaks at all. What it takes to break it. Can a man be driven to willingly do what goes against his moral code?”_

_Tina fell against the cold glass, unable to break through; to stop anything. She could merely watch him be torn apart in front of her. Something pressed against her ear, an achingly familiar set of lips that only whispered, “I think he can.”_

\--

Tina woke with a yell, to daylight pouring through the window above her bed. Her pillow, sheets, and even her clothes had soaked through with sweat, but as she sank back into bed with one deep breath after another it was impossible to deny how _alive_ she felt. Even the dried blood that had laced her hands had been washed off, as if Dawlish never even touched her. But the blood in her blouse remained, dried and darkened to brown.

Dawlish. The traitors. Grindelwald.

Her mind clutched the dream again, still replaying their enemy’s words. They were from, what she believed to be Percival’s most vital memory from the entire ordeal and the only one she had written down in extensive detail for their case file. Grindelwald’s drunk ramblings were more than that; it was an insight into why he kept Percival around for so long, why he was still after him, why he called him his ‘pet’. Grindelwald’s torture came with a purpose, to break the man she loved beyond repair. Using Percival’s affection for her was clearly a part of the gamble, and further using his protective nature would make him bend over backwards to ensure her safety. But there was more to it; a missing piece. Grindelwald wouldn’t go through all of this trouble just to get Percival to give up or reveal some paltry secrets.

She suspected that he wanted Percival to do something. To fight someone. To _betray_ someone.

“Who’s Percival?” Shikoba asked, nearly jolting Tina into an offensive spell.

She was sitting by the writing desk, holding a short whittling knife in one hand and an unfinished wand of black and white in the other. She looked up at Tina briefly before continuing to scratch against the wood. There was another cauldron behind her – copper – pink steam rising like the breath of a dragon.

“Excuse an old woman for intruding. You were saying his name quite a lot, even for a lover.”

“He’s-he’s more than that,” Tina said, finding the strength to sit up. “He’s the Director.”

“Ah, an office affair then,” she said and Tina couldn’t help but grimace. “No? More than that?”

“Yes.” Tina said, without wanting to elaborate; not if she could help it.

Shikoba nodded, continuing to carve the multi-colored wand until the edges rounded out.

“You worry about him.”

“Too much,” Tina admitted, finding her feet again. This time the world did not move or blur like a drunk after a successful mission. She opened her hand and focused on a Lumos but found almost no magic humming through her veins. Damn. “I need to get home.”

“Is he the one who took that curse from you?” Shikoba ignored her request, speaking as if she were merely asking the time, but her eyes didn’t rise to meet Tina’s bewildered ones. “The reason you still stand.”

_How the hell did she know?_

She motioned Tina over. “Come, potions Auror, help me with this while I work on this wand. Have you ever made Skele-Gro? We’re in short supply at the reservation after my grandson flew his broom into a bison – imagine that!”

It sounded painful, but, Tina nodded, looking down at the ingredients already separated on the desk. The lionfish spine still needed to be cut, but the scarab beetles looked to have been alive that morning.

“Now, tell me, Miss Tina. Your nose looks like it took a beating this morning. There’s blood all over your clothing. You still reek of spell damage. Tell an old lady.”

Shikoba handed Tina another knife for the lionfish spine while she continued to scratch at the wand on her lap.

“I was attacked, by a criminal,” Tina fibbed, grabbing the knife. “I had angered him. Apparently breaking a man’s nose will do that.”

“And then this man hit you in the face?”

Tina began chopping the lionfish spine into squares, which clopped with each sharp cut of her knife. “The criminal? Yeah, a few times. Can’t really remember how many.”

“And you’re still standing?”

“He was never particularly strong,” Tina thought back to their weekly training sessions, to swinging fists and broken ribs. “And I’ve taken more than my fair share of hits over the years.”

“Ah, of course. Perfectly normal for a lady.”

“Normal for an Auror.” Tina countered.

 _Assistant Director, Tina_ , Percival’s fighting words interrupted, for a title she didn’t deserve.

It was an argument she’d heard her whole life, and no doubt would’ve heard from her parents too. Ladies weren’t supposed to come home with black eyes and bruised ribs. They weren’t supposed to be wearing men’s trousers. And they certainly weren’t supposed to sleep with their boss.

But Tina had never been much for typical anyway.

“You were stabbed in the stomach,” Shikoba noted casually. “It missed all major organs. Just a flesh wound. And, after all of this, you still apparated here, with no splinching?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I got lucky.”

“Not lucky. Luck had nothing to do with it Miss Tina.”

Tina deposited the bits of spine into the pot, backing away when a puff of yellow smoke burst into the ceiling, smelling of fish and both women gagged.

“Right. Not luck.” Tina finally mocked in between coughs.

“You’re telling me every Auror in MACUSA can go through what you just described to me and still apparate over two-thousand miles? If that’s true then I can’t see how this country is in any trouble.”

Tina opened her mouth to speak but found no relevant words. She was just _getting up_ , just doing her job. It wasn’t remarkable, it just was.

Shikoba turned, suddenly. For such a tiny woman, her grip was as firm as a young Auror interviewing for the job. She took Tina by the wrist and flipped it over, with a sharp ‘hm’. When she didn’t find what she was after, she pushed Tina’s sleeve up hard enough to cause a rip to ring through the cabin. She responded with another, sharper ‘hm’ and a smirk.

“What? It’s just a scar.”

A loud clap of thunder interrupted them; something too strong for apparition, but her wandmaker seemed unaffected by it, even as Tina reached for her treasonous wand.

“Hm,” Shikoba nodded with that shit-eating grin. “Alright Miss Tina, if you say so. After all, I’m just an old woman from Oklahoma.”

Shikoba put the half-made wand down and slipped out the door, humming something joyful to herself. Unbelievable.

Tina traced the thin line along her arm until it disappeared into her shoulder. “It’s just a scar!”

No response.

_Isn’t it?_

“Madam Wolfe!”

Tina shot out the door, finding the sun shining high now, raining down unfamiliar heat against the refreshing waters of the Colorado and – _Mercy Lewis_.

“ _Frank_?”

Both Shikoba and the Thunderbird turned to face her. It was perched over the cabin with its claws digging deep into the wood and threatening to bring the whole thing down with his weight. He blinked again. This had to be Frank. One of his legs harbored less feathers, giving way to a skin marred with scars from his imprisonment before Newt’s rescue. Even his beak, hardened with age, held deep cuts that must’ve caused the poor animal more pain than she ever imagined.

Shikoba gave her the same look as a frustrated Ilvermorny professor on her last class of the semester. “You named him _Frank_?”

“I know, it’s rather uncreative,” Tina smiled, looking up at the majestic Thunderbird warming his feathers. He was beautiful. “But I didn’t name him. His ‘mummy’ did.”

Frank bent his head down, almost in a bow at Newt’s nickname for himself and now the old wandmaker was truly confused, but she only shook her head.

“He came to me a few weeks ago, all thunder and lightning and I could see at once he wasn’t from around here at all. Tired, scarred. Quite like yourself, I might add,” she said. “He was the one who sensed your arrival and flew to tell me. He wasn’t sure if you were one of _his_.”

“Grindelwald,” Tina said immediately, thinking back to the curious wolf following her. Now she was extremely thankful that Queenie had packed her that snack. “His followers have come here?”

“Not yet, but they’re causing trouble everywhere, trying to convert people. All they say is hogwash. The people back home are scared with all this talk of superiority and such.”

“In Oklahoma, in your reservation.” Tina thought aloud. Shikoba said something to Frank, in Choctaw most likely and he lifted off, nearly blowing both women into the river with the powerful, cold gusts that sent rocks and dirt flying everywhere.

“Correct, Miss Tina,” she sighed, going back into the cabin and Tina followed. “I told him it’s too early for dinner. He’ll be back later.”

“You’re scared that someone like Grindelwald would consider you inferior?”

“Of course, just look at American history,” Shikoba shrugged. “Some of us still don’t use wands. Most of us focus on potions; I do it to take care of my family, others do it as a way of life with little other magic. It wouldn’t be hard for a wizard such as him to convince the others we’re a peg below.”

Tina didn’t want to admit to the truth in those words. She liked to think that wizard kind was more progressive than no-maj, with women working side by side with men on the field – as a President – with people of color seen as equals in their community. But the hatred, the misunderstanding about no-maj and blood status still plagued far too many families. To them, being pure-blood or half-blood meant something. And, if that mattered, the magic that tribes like Shikoba’s still practiced, could be seen as much of the same.

“Now, how’s our potion doing?”

She was probably eager to change the topic. Tina was curious, but knew this wasn’t the time.

“Needs Chinese Chomping Cabbage,” Tina noted, looking at the red liquid still steaming. But, with Frank out of sight and the potion ingredients back in her hand her mind flew back to the pressing question still nagging at her. “What did you mean about my scar?”

“Ah, of course,” her eyebrows shot up. “You must forgive an old woman who spends far too much time in the sun.”

She took her knife and scratched off another small bit of wood from the wand, leaving a rounded hilt that aligned with the rest of it.

“This man. This _Percival_ of yours – he took something fatal out of your body. I felt it in my diagnostic spell; a black sickness that once infested you, meant to destroy you from the inside,” she paused a moment, letting the words sink in before she swallowed. “He sacrificed himself for you.”

“No,” Tina said quickly. “He’s alive; there’s no sacrifice.”

“I don’t know how he still lives; that in itself is a miracle. But, tell me, is he _well_?” Shikoba asked, eyes falling like she knew the answer already.

And she was right. Tina tried not to picture how pale and exhausted he looked before she left him on her couch. A sight that prompted her to let him sleep while she looked for answers.

There was no need to tell her that no, Percival was not well.

“The scar, well, it’s just that. A sign that you had something ripped out of you that wasn’t meant to come off. But, I’m sure you know, Miss Tina, magic goes back before wands and incantations, cauldrons and classrooms.”

“Old magic,” Tina whispered, tracing her scar again. “That didn’t need to be said. Only felt.”

“Precisely. Now, I don’t know if that was his intent, but when he took that curse from you – _knowing it could kill him_ – he gave you something in return. His love for you, Miss Tina, is the reason you’re still standing. It’s why the blade that sought to kill you hit nothing. Why your trip here didn’t kill you when it should have. Because his love; his _sacrifice_ protected you.”

He gave her a shield, so she would always be protected even when he wasn’t there. She stayed alive while he crumbled to dust a little more each day. It was more than just the curse.

Shikoba continued, voice soft. “And, his sacrifice _will_ likely kill him.”

Tina shook her head, a resounding _no_ pounding into her head. This couldn’t be it; not just for _them_ but for _him_. Percival had given so much – to her, to people who would never know his name. He would not go limp in her arms; he couldn’t. _He couldn’t._

“I need to find him; I need to get out of here.” Tina rambled, rushing to the fireplace. She grabbed a handful of floo powder and hoped, _hoped_ that calling out MACUSA would grant her access, but nothing. She only managed to cover herself with dust as Shikoba looked on at her panic, at the tears she fought back.

 _No, no, no._ She needed to get home – she was not going to let him wither into nothing. Tina jerked open the drawer, grabbed the quill and said the password home.

_Nothing._

There must be something – some way she could talk to him, even for a minute, figure out a solution –

“Percival,” she growled, grabbing the necklace and speaking into it like a microphone. Her hands shook as much as her voice cracked. “Please. _Please_ Percival.”

Shikoba stood. “What craziness is this? It’s a necklace, Miss Tina-”

“It’s a two-way mirror,” Tina said, exasperated as she pulled the useless thing off her. “We use it to talk to each other, but-”

But he wasn’t answering. Either he lost it or, hell, it got taken from him.

_Or he died in that fire._

“What-what are you doing?”

Shikoba had dumped the remaining Skele-Gro into a large bottle and was now pulling the cauldron off, leaving the fire burning low to the stones.

“Best thing about being an old hag, Miss Tina, is that you get to see even the strangest patterns,” she said with far too much excitement. “The mirror, it has a twin you say?”

“It does, somewhere in New York. I don’t understand-”

“There are ways, Miss Tina, to link two people together in a deeper way than just marriage. Ways to share strength and fortune; the ultimate sign of love. With this mirror, I believe I can link you to him in more than one way. Maybe, I can let you two see each other by using something similar.”

Shikoba took the necklace from her, examining it a moment before transfiguring it back into its original shape. She scraped off a piece of the magic glass, dropping it into the fire where it cracked and twisted into something odd.

“I need something from each of you. A part of you. Could be hair, saliva. Maybe something more intimate from him, if you don’t have his hair?”

 _Intimate? Oh._ Her cheeks burned as she turned away from the old woman, crossing her legs at the implication.

“Don’t pretend with me, Miss Tina. Besides,” she laughed. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Yes, but she would prefer something easier, like hair, but it’s not like she had one of his combs or brushes where hair could get tangled. Or even a hair tie. Hm. When she pulled the eye-patch from him at dinner, he grimaced when it got caught in his hair.

Tina pulled it off carefully, immediately finding one of her own hairs stuck to the string and handed that bit to Shikoba. She turned the patch over, looking closely for any of the short hairs and her heart leapt with relief when she saw a couple of white strands tangled between the string and the cloth. She did not want to think about providing any other _part_ of Percival; not to a stranger.

The old woman took the missing ingredient and dropped it in the fire, which immediately turned the smoke black, but Shikoba was not even slightly worried. When the smoke settled, she dropped something else in, whispering words that were certainly not English.

“This connects your mirror to his, and him to you. It should take you to the twin mirror where you can find him. But, he isn’t here to do the ritual with you. He may only be able to see, or only hear. Something will be missing,” the smoke turned white and now Shikoba nearly pushed Tina into the flames. “Go, take a breath and hold on.”

It smelled of rotten eggs, but Tina breathed it in and felt herself pull away from her body; from her physical self. She was floating suddenly, all pain and worries behind her as the world briefly turned black.

Tina opened her eyes to a familiar kitchen, lined with darkened wallpaper that was once a disgusting shade of yellow. No cabin in sight. No wandmaker. It worked. Mercy Lewis, she was in New York. As a ghost. And, at her feet, Percival’s mirror – cracked in half, but still there in the mess the kitchen had become. The poor woman Tina had seen, now a charred corpse, shared the space. Another person they weren’t able to save from Grindelwald’s lunatics.

There was no time to waste – she needed to find him and get him to come to Arizona, or to make a plan - anything. Tina rushed to MACUSA, through the back entrance she’d used with Percival where she was sure she couldn’t be detected by any magical means – though she wasn’t even sure this was real.

And then, out of the mouth of unfamiliar Aurors, she heard words she never hoped to be real.

“…They’ve had Graves there for three hours now. Never seen someone take the Cruciatus Curse that long and not crack.” The skinny Auror said as he stepped into the break room.

His companion, a witch a good head taller than him shook her head. “It’s not right. This trial, for treason, it’s just not right.”

_Treason. Cruciatus Curse._

Oh Merlin, Percival. If there was someone on this planet who didn’t need more hits of that curse, it was him. She didn’t need to just talk to him; she needed to get him the hell out of there.

But Aurors were patrolling everywhere. If she was going to pull him out, she needed stairways and halls that weren’t occupied. Tina ran, from corridor to corridor, mapping out the perfect escape in her head, but Percival wasn’t the only person on her list. Not if she planned to pull this off.

The row of doors, each leading to a different interrogation room came up quickly and she wouldn’t have to wait long to find out where Percival was being kept. One door flew open, Picquery and a slew of Aurors behind her – including DeSoto. The President sent them forth, up the narrow set of stairs, but before DeSoto could go, she slipped him something, something small and thin. Tina followed closely and nearly growled at the sight – it was Percival’s wand. The President just handed him Percival’s wand.

He stayed back from the main group, and once they had all gone up the stairs, he separated from them and ran to the evidence lockers at the end of the cells where he pulled out Percival’s coat as well. He looked around a moment before slipping off to one of the narrower staircases and-

Queenie! And Jacobs? Both had their wands up, silently waiting in the shadows and when DeSoto arrived with a firm nod, they followed him out of there.

No! He would lead them to a trap!

Tina frantically waved to her sister but she merely walked right through her, as if she didn’t exist. The trio ran into the interrogation room, leaving the door open enough for her to peek in and for her heart to break.

Percival looked like he’d been butchered for hours on end. Blood dripped from his hairline down his cheeks, nearly obscuring him completely. Even from that distance she could see the residual effects of the Cruciatus curse rumbling through him, causing him pain at the slightest movement as he shook in place. He was already a wreck thanks to that curse, and now this? No, goodness no.

She stepped closer, calling to him, and, it was almost as if he heard her because he immediately lifted his head and met her eyes, staying focused on her for an eternity. She asked if he could hear her, but he did not answer, eyes fixed on her in wonder.

She had visual, but no sound. She could work with this. Now Tina was the one motioning for him to follow as she led him through the empty halls she had memorized, the ones with no Aurors on guard, knowing he trusted her enough to get him to safety. Even if he didn’t know what magic this was or how she was even there.

But DeSoto always followed.

“Watch it,” she snapped at Percival, pointing behind him. “Watch out for him!”

Percival stopped, looking at her like she was insane. “Tina, I- are you sure?”

“Yes! Watch him – please, I think there’s something-”

Percival and the others began to blur, just slightly, just enough and Tina realized she was running out of time with the ritual, and they still weren’t done. This would have to wait; for now, she needed to get Percival out of Picquery’s hands.

And so, Tina ran, even as the walls began to disappear, as the image of her lover began turning to a memory, she ran down to those same no-maj steps, until she was sure she was safe, until-

Tina opened her eyes, gasping for breath as her body shook awake.

But it wasn’t just the lack of smoke that had jerked her back into the world.

“Porpentina Esther Goldstein!” A man’s voice boomed far louder than it had the right to be. Voice amplifying spell. “Step out now and no harm will come to you.”

It didn’t matter. Percival had made it out, he was with her sister. He was safe – _for the time being._  She needed to try again.

The man repeated himself, the same bullshit and now she rolled her eyes. “Right,” Tina scoffed, scrambling to her feet. “Can’t harm someone if you kill them.”

She was wandless and with an older civilian in the line of fire. The first thing she needed-

“Here,” Shikoba shoved something into Tina’s hand; the wand she had been painstakingly carving for hours. “You’re not much good to us with that other wand.”

The wand was heavy in her hand; not in physical weight but in power. A steady thrum emanated from it, merging with her arm and producing a stream of gold as she swished it through the air.

“It’s an interesting wand, I think. The white you see is Aspen wood. It aligns well with the strong-minded, which I believe is quite the match. The black wood is Ebony and it thrives with transfiguration. Together, the determination of Aspen and the steadfast will of Ebony makes for a wand that excels with an Auror who is sure of their purpose. The core is a tail feather from a Thunderbird you know very well. A fighter, a survivor. A giver.”

It was rather long too; at least twelve inches, and didn’t have much give. It radiated in her hand, merging with her as if it were an elongation of her arm. Her wand was always more subtle; this wand held nothing back.

“Thank y-”

The walls shook as if a tornado had come over them, ready to tear everything apart at the seams but Tina’s wards held strong and only a little dust fell from the ceiling down to them.

“Madam Wolfe, with me,” Tina asserted, bringing the older woman close. “Can you apparate?”

“Not well, I’m afraid,” she said, standing proud with her wand. “But I don’t intend on running from these cowards, Miss Tina.”

“That makes two of us.”

There was another boom by the front door as whoever this was – or were – tried to break in. This was one hell of a sloppy attack and lacked all element of surprise and any tact at all. This was a group just firing off their heaviest spells and hoping something stuck.

Which meant that they were not Aurors. They couldn’t be, with all the Aurors stuck in New York. These were other office workers, sent by Grindelwald and company, from other MACUSA satellite offices.

They needed a distraction.

“The sleeping draught from earlier; did you have any left?”

“Of course,” Shikoba said, pointing to one of the large bottles on the writing desk. “My grandmother always taught me to make extra.”

The wood on the walls began to crack against the slew of spells. The wards were strong, but they could only hold for so long against a litany of dark magic being slung at it with reckless abandon.

Tina rushed through the cabin, grabbing the bottle first before taking the lone bottle of milk from the pantry. If there was ever a time she was happy that a classroom mishap nearly blew her arm off just to teach her something, this was it.

Shikoba couldn’t hide her surprise. “You’re going to blow this sky high.”

“Not all of it,” Tina clarified. “Just enough to get us out of trouble.”

The men and women outside weren’t experienced enough to know to surround the building. Naturally, they were trying to come in through the front door; what they saw as the weakest point of entry. Tina set up the cauldron there, by the corner of the door where it wouldn’t be knocked over by a wayward spell and dumped the potion, dangling the milk bottle over the waiting door as they waited by the opposite side.

“When the door bursts open, break the window.” Tina instructed and Shikoba nodded with confidence.

The door was hit with another blast, cracking the wards further. Holding her new wand, Tina cast a fierce _Protego_ , firing up a blue shield in front of her and the wandmaker while the door threatened to give out. Another blast. The whole cabin trembled.

And then, all at once, the door bust through and the entire milk bottle fell into the cauldron.

One second passed. Shikoba turned, wand in hand and sent a blaze of red to the little window.

Another second, someone began to come in. Tina held her shield.

And then, all at once, everything went white as the cauldron broke open. Tina grabbed onto the wand with both hands, her heart – not her mind – reminding her of everything on the line, of the life she wanted. She needed to hold on. Needed her magic to cooperate, even a little, even while weakened.

_Do it for MACUSA. Do it for your family. Do it for him._

With ears ringing, she opened her eyes to see the shield spell held through, with the entire front of the cabin blown to bits and allowing the sun through, in the middle of a round of thunder.

_‘He came in all thunder lightning.’ Shikoba had said. Frank!_

She rushed through the blown window, careful to not step on glass and found two Obliviators and one Charms Specialist recovering from the blow. Tina shot one stunning spell after another, and, even weakened it still sent her targets back down. Probably not for very long, but enough to bind them.

And then, knowing it was safe, was Frank. He flew down from the rocky cliffs, bringing the storm clouds with each cry before landing on the ground in front of Tina.

“It’s alright, we’ve got them,” Tina said, stepping up to the bird. He dipped his head, allowing her to stroke his neck and beak the same way Newt had done. “But I’m sure you scared them too.”

There was rustling behind her and cursing, but Frank didn’t react. Tina turned to see the old woman kicking one of the downed prisoners in the face. Mercy Lewis, they were bad but she couldn’t let this-

A pop. Another. Not from their little alcove, but nearby and Shikoba heard it too if her reduced kicks were anything to go by. She took one look at Tina and rushed over, pressing something else into her hand. A bottle, filled with white smoke that danced inside its glass prison.

“You’ll need to find him again,” she clarified. “Now go, Miss Tina. He needs you.”

“No, Madam Wolfe, I can’t – there’s more-”

“Child, I’ve handled myself through a lot of shit these ninety years,” she said with a smile. “These idiots will wish they stayed in bed.”

Another pop, closer this time, but Tina had to know. With tears beginning to form in her eyes, she asked the one question she was terrified of hearing an answer to. “Can I save him?”

Shikoba’s eyes twinkled at her question, and she took Tina’s hands in hers and squeezed. “Love can untangle even the fiercest knots, Miss Tina. _Will_ it, _wield_ it, and anything is possible if you're willing to sacrifice for it. Good luck to you two – now go!”

_Go? But where-_

Frank dipped his body lower and now Tina understood but couldn’t hide her panic. Heights were not her thing, they weren’t – _damn it_. Trying not to think about the time they rode a hippogriff in class, Tina climbed onto Frank, gripping the feathers around his neck as her knees clutched at his ribs. It was impossible not to notice how much higher she was already, how little control she had, how she could just-

Shikoba whistled something to Frank and in an instant, he leapt off the rocks, nearly throwing Tina off as she hung onto his feathers for dear life. Each mighty flap of his wings had them soaring higher, until the cabin was a lonely dot in the middle of dirt and rocks. Tina dug her face into him, shutting her eyes tight as she tried to pretend they weren’t up in the air.

“We need to get to New York, Frank.” She yelled against the howling wind and Frank tilted right, continuing to ascend higher, to thinner air as Tina gasped back a panicked yell. She patted his neck in thanks, huddling against him for warmth as the air grew colder.

She’d been so close to being able to get Percival alone to signal him of the danger and those damn knuckleheads just had to intervene. Maybe by now he’d gotten far enough away that she could try again. It was a long shot, but she had to try.

Tina patted Frank again, pointing down to a nearby lake where one of them could at least grab a hearty dinner. Descending was downright awful. It felt like she was about to slide right over his neck. Merlin, if her classmates saw her riding Frank they would’ve had a field day – until they realized Thunderbirds did not have the right body for a rider.

But it was over quickly. Frank was more than content to perch on a dead tree, and while he looked to her for food, she couldn’t imagine where the heck she’d find something the size of a komodo dragon in the middle of Arizona since the lake seemed devoid of any big enough fish.

“Sorry, bud,” she called, hastily pulling the bottle out of her pocket. “I’ll try to get you something in New York – I know a guy.”

He squawked, looking down in disappointment and Tina swore he understood her. This was something she definitely had to write Newt about sometime.

Giving a quick nod to Frank, who somehow nodded back like a human, she brought the smoke to her nose and closed her eyes as her consciousness travelled a couple thousand miles.

And what she saw nearly broke her heart again.

It was her room, in Percival’s house. He must've found the mirror. She’d only spent two nights in there but they left in such a hurry that she never bothered gathering her remaining items. And now Percival laid on the bed, curled into a ball, desperately clinging to her pillow.

His whole body shook. Even from this distance, in the haze of magic she could see the weight of all the spell damage lingering on him like a sickness. He needed a Healer. He needed help.

The room was hazy, an unfortunate effect of Shikoba’s concoction, but it was not enough to obscure his dampened cheeks, or the fact that half the pillow was a shade darker than it should have been. Percival wasn’t crying – not in the normal sense – but she could see the tears forming on the corner of his eyes, gaining mass, and then slipping down to join the others. In fact, he was making a conscious effort _not_ to cry and she swore he was trying to suck in the tears that escaped.

“Percival, I’m here, I’m alive,” she whispered, hoping and _willing_ that he could somehow hear her. “Just hang on a little longer, love.”

She laid her hand over the shorter hairs and brushed it back, grazing her nails the same way she did when he had that nightmare. It was pointless, he couldn’t feel her, couldn’t hear her, but maybe, just maybe it made an ounce of difference. She found that spot behind his ear, that turned him to mush no matter when she touched him and continued the caress just the same, even though the blurred edges of the room were beginning to fade. Her time with him was coming to a stop again.

“I’m not- I’m not ready to let you go.”

He said it so softly that she wasn’t sure she heard it at first.

“I know,” she answered, his body already fading under her touch. “I’m not letting you go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why but Shikoba Wolfe in my mind looks like Mulan's grandmother (in appearance and attitude).
> 
> If you remember from a few chapters ago, Tina managed to rescue herself and Percival by realizing Travers mixed milk into a sleeping draught (doesn't mix well with the bean!). She just pulled off the same trick here, to great success.
> 
> I've had a few road trips and the like over the last few years (including two weeks ago), and they usually bring me through reservations. Last year I spent a couple days in Arizona, with the Hualapai, and it was great so I thought to include them here, even if just briefly as a nod to that (though Madam Wolfe is of Choctaw descent, which are in Oklahoma.). I always figured that since Thunderbirds were normally in Arizona that it made sense for her to sort of have an outpost in Arizona to work out of and collect her ingredients before returning home and taking care of her family.
> 
> I just had to have Tina ride a Thunderbird into the sunset. I had to. Sorrynotsorry.


	24. The King's Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the shortest chapter I've written since like February XD It's supposed to be a continuation of Percival's earlier chapter, thus the shorter length. This also means that it's, well, sad (again).

Pounding. A deep, vibrating sound that throbbed against his skull pulled him from the sanctity of sleep.

Percival tried to force his eyes open. They stung in protest, bringing the pulsing pain to the back of his eyes, to his head, to everything. He took a deep breath, hoping that some part of him didn’t hurt but the intoxicating, familiar scent flooded him once again and he smiled, because it was alright. The pain was temporary, Tina could undo it, she could –

Percival stupidly reached forward and touched nothing but a cold pillow and flat, unused sheets. Silence greeted his confusion. A painful scream in the middle of flames answered his unspoken question.

He was alone.

There was almost no sun left to shine on the room that was rapidly slipping into darkness, casting odd shadows along the wall. His Auror instincts should've had him jumping up against pain; against fear, but they did nothing as he lay paralyzed in bed.

Somewhere, far away, the pounding continued. Once, twice, three times. And stopped.

Knocking. Some poor sap was knocking on his front door. He hoped it wasn’t any of his Aurors coming to apprehend him; not because it wouldn’t end well for them but because he taught them better than that. The alternative, just as troubling, was that it was an ally; a friend.

_Friend_ , Percival nearly scoffed. The last thing anyone in this world needed was to be his friend. The world needed to forget him, to let him waste away quietly at that old house. It was time anyway. The world hadn’t needed him since the first time he was too weak to stand up to Grindelwald. But he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, if he tried hard enough, if he pretended, if he-

He was a fool.

The knocking persisted.

Fuck. Someone clearly had a fucking death wish.

Percival pushed himself off the bed, slowly, every bone and muscle screaming at him to get his ass back down. A more rational part of him, buried somewhere forgotten, suggested he go see a Healer at once. He’d been thrown around, stunned, tortured. He should not be trying to stand, even with the glowing brace on his knee and _what the fuck is wrong with you?_

He didn’t even know where the fuck his wand was, or whether it even mattered. Even a common mugger would be a challenge. Now wouldn’t _that_ be something; the ‘great’ Percival Graves, stabbed in the stomach and left to die in his own house. At least that blasted newspaper would print one accurate story that week.

The mysterious stranger knocked again, hard enough to shake the walls and now Percival huffed. He crawled down to the floor, every joint burning in agony, as he palmed underneath the darkness of the bed before finding the familiar sleek handle that recognized its master. Perhaps the only thing in this world still loyal to him. With a sigh, Percival pocketed it.

He smoothed out the covers where he slept. Turned over the pillow to not show the wet spots still hiding in plain sight. And, with a shadow of a whimper, he closed the closet, hiding the fragrant clothes behind the doors of oak and steel where they would stay preserved. Locking the door behind him with a finality that sent a painful chill through his heart, Percival turned his attention to the unannounced guest downstairs.

“Roscoe,” Percival said, trying to hide the surprise in his voice as he swung the heavy front doors open. The boy looked as if he were about to knock again but he quickly bowed his head at what Percival imagined must’ve been the foulest glare he could have. “You should be home by now.”

“Not while we’re under Crisis, sir,” he answered quickly. “An Auror’s job is never done.”

Once upon a time, such a sentence would’ve earned a man a promotion. Now, it earned him nothing but a scowl.

“How did you get past my wards?”

DeSoto glanced up, a hint of confusion clouding his eyes. “There weren’t any, sir.”

A beat.

Right. He never bothered with the wards that day. But then how was it that-

“I told the President we had already checked your home for any sign of you. No one should bother you.”

How noble. _How foolish_. “Go home, Ros,” Percival instructed, wishing that word meant something to him. “Get some rest.”

Percival began to push the door closed but the young kid held fast against it. “Wait, sir! It’s about your assignment from earlier.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Percival said, trying not to sound as vicious as he felt. “Go home and keep your head down. Don’t tell anyone you saw me tonight.”

He didn’t need any more blood on his hands but his guest still held the door tight against him. “This involves Tina, sir. Tina Goldstein.”

Her name off the lips of another sent a shiver down his spine and weakened his grip on the door long enough for DeSoto to push it back open, revealing the slew of snow beginning to fall behind him.

Percival swallowed, trying not to show how something so little had his hands shivering again, how it wet his eyes and resurfaced the headache he was pretending he didn’t have. “What about her?”

“Can I come in? Please – I won’t take up much of your time.”

He had to get a grip on himself. He couldn’t lose it in front of another; in front of an Auror that was just beginning to learn the ropes and come into himself as a professional. For just a little longer, he should try. Just a little longer.

Percival stood aside, letting the man through before shutting the door behind him.

He did not bother locking it.

DeSoto hung around the foyer like a lost puppy, hat on and head down, waiting for Percival’s lead into his mess of a house, where he ducked his head at the quizzical ramblings of his prying family’s portraits. They never fucking shut up.

With every room stinking of disappointment, Percival led him to the sitting room his parents loved to make use of. It was smaller than the living room, with no fireplace and meant to be a casual place to chat, or quiz a young Percival on the different uses of Wolfsbane, or criticize his skill on the old piano still sitting by the corner. It must've gone untouched for two decades now and Percival knew the damn thing would try to bite him if he came close. It never did like him.

Nothing in this room was welcoming. He'd never taken her there. It was still as cold as he remembered but neither man bothered with their jackets. While the kid took a seat, Percival pulled out the last bottle of Ogden’s hidden away underneath the ticking grandfather clock, pouring two glasses before his guest had time to refuse him.

DeSoto remained chaste, playing with the half-full glass in his hand while Percival sat across from him with most of his glass already gone. It was only when Percival cleared his throat that he finally remembered to speak.

“I’m sorry, sir. For your loss,” he started quietly, almost shrinking within himself. His voice was so soft it barely carried within the room. “She-she was always nice to me; always a good leader. An excellent Auror.”

_Assistant Director_ , Percival thought weakly. Without locking eyes with the young man, Percival instead gave him a faint nod.

“I was the one who pulled you of the fire, sir,” he whispered, his cracking voice laced with disappointment. “I saw her in your arms. Before she-”

_“_ You didn’t save her _,”_ Percival said, his calm demeanor betraying every nerve ending surging with heat as he prepared to throw himself across the room. “You saw her fall-”

“Orders! I had orders, sir!” DeSoto sank into the couch, seeing the murderous stare Percival did not bother hiding. Still, he did not raise his voice.

“ _What orders_?”

“The President,” he said quickly. “She-she told me to get you and-” Percival stood, the glass in his hand not breaking by some damn miracle. “I asked her ‘ _what about Goldstein, she’s in there’_ and she said she didn’t matter-”

_She didn’t matter._

The rest of the words fell on deaf ears. Picquery knew that Tina was in there with him, _she fucking knew_ , and she gave specific orders not to have her rescued. Since her demotion it was obvious that she had no affection for Tina, and he would’ve almost been ready to believe her little game at the interrogation room, but this was on another level.

She knew. She _wanted_ Tina dead; still wants _him_ dead.

“…and after your order, I went back to MACUSA sir, and she was gone again. I heard Mary down in the Charms division say something about talking to reporters, but no one could find her. That, and the way she was torturing you, I knew there was something rotten so I went up to Major Investigations.”

Percival was still seething but finished his glass, not even relishing the burn before he began to pour another. “Did anyone see you?”

“No, sir, I was very quiet,” he said, finally drinking some of the golden liquid without flinching. “I started to look into the files we have from the last few weeks, from the Grindelwald case. And, well, I found something disturbing in Madam Picquery’s interrogation with him.”

“She asked him, unofficially, where he hid me; what he’d done to me,” Percival said, voice low and hiding the rage that alcohol sought to bring forth. “I’ve seen the parchment myself.”

And nearly burned it to boot. Picquery had gotten nowhere with Grindelwald as he just offered tease after tease, even after repeated doses of Veritaserum. But she stopped there. If it hadn’t been for his Patronus, if it hadn’t been for _Tina_ -

His chest tightened at the face accompanying that name and he took another swig from his glass that might ease his pain, if only for a minute.

DeSoto pulled the freshly folded paper out of his pocket, uncrumpling it and laying it between them. It had the official MACUSA seal watermarked on every page, a constant reminder of who they were and what they stood for – even when they wished they could forget it. The date on the bottom indicated the same date Grindelwald had been captured. This was, indeed, the same official document. “Well, the quills automatically take down everything in the interrogations.”

“I know,” Percival said gruffly. “I designed it that way.”

“But this document wasn’t written by that quill, sir. It was written by her own hand.”

It was-what? Percival took the parchment from DeSoto, re-reading every letter and period. The quill had a certain handwriting, something hard for any person to mimic and he would’ve noticed it if it was in Picquery’s hand. He’d been reading her notes since they were first-years, and this was none of it.

DeSoto continued. “It’s almost perfect, isn’t it? But, the quill never hesitates, it never thinks.”

Of course, because it’s enchanted that way. It’s a machine, as the no-maj would call it. Which means-

Which means it would never pause too long over a period or comma to leave a dark splotch of ink. And this paper had several. If Picquery had hand-written that interrogation paper then it must’ve been because there was something in the original no one was meant to see.

This was a forgery. A clever cover-up that Picquery went through the trouble of hand-writing in a different hand just to fool him and the rest of MACUSA.

Percival nearly forgot his firewhisky.

“Did you find the original?”

Now DeSoto looked alive, speaking in a hushed whisper: “Not yet, sir, but we are working on it.”

“We?”

“There’s still quite a few Aurors loyal to you, sir. Loyal to Goldstein,” he paused, knowing the storm of emotions that accompanied her name and rocked Percival into submission. “With your hearing in limbo, she’ll be using the Pentagram room to call a meeting; to rally against you. I think, it wouldn’t be a bad time to bring justice.”

_Justice._ Pericval took a breath, letting that old, familiar word take a new shape inside his mind. Justice for all the Aurors brought down by her hand, justice to her. To Tina. The rest of the wizards and witches there deserved to know the chaos that Picquery was descending upon America, deserved to have a chance to reign back their government. For once there was a tiny bit of hope pushing against his chest, reviving him just a bit in the bitter winter cold.

And yet, as he felt the heavy pull of the broken wand inside his jacket pocket, he couldn’t help but wonder – such a siege would come at what cost?

How many more Aurors?

He'd lost so many already. Committing more to this battle and to this maniac surely wasn't a sane answer. His Aurors had followed him blindly into battle and look at where he led them. To an abyss.

He wanted revenge - craved it. But something else, something cold crept up his heart and dragged him back down to reality, to the graves he still needed to dig.

“Go home, Ros,” Percival whispered, tempering his rage with the sobering reminder of what such anger could cost. “Let this be.”

“But sir-”

“It’s an order-”

“-What about Goldstein? What would Tina-”

Percival clutched the broken wood, bringing it closer to his chest as another part of him ripped apart. It was too much; it was going to happen again- he was going to lose it – he – “ _Go home, Ros_ ,” he growled, sucking in breaths as the pain crushed him. “I’m not going to tell you again. Go home _._ ”

“Yes sir,” the boy said, picking up the bowler hat from the table before whispering: “If you change your mind, I’ll be at the Blind Pig tonight with the others. Good night.”

Neither men shook hands or even shared a nod of understanding. It was past that point. Instead, DeSoto’s footsteps gradually lessened to nothing as Percival fought to keep his emotions from bubbling out of control again.

He had more than enough firewhisky stored for such an occasion and Gods he needed it.

This time, there was no need to bother with glasses and formality. There were no politicians to impress, parents to placate, friends to scowl. No one. Just him. It didn’t matter. Percival jerked another bottle from his cabinet, popped the cork off and drank from it as if it came from the holy grail itself and fuck was it ever what he needed at that moment. It burned, but it was a damn good burn that had him forgetting that his body and what was left of his life was in shambles.

Bottle in hand, Percival settled back on the uncomfortable couch meant for pleasant conversation over coffee and not as a bed. Probably his mother’s idea, if he had to guess – a shitty place to send papa Graves when he misbehaved, or so Percival thought with a shaky smile and a drunken laugh that traveled down the halls like the howls of a ghost. But was he even drunk? No, it had only barely been half a bottle that day. Maybe one full one. He could use a fucking cigarette; a cigarette couldn’t make him drunk.

It didn’t matter. Percival pulled the tiny box from his jacket to find it light and not rattling.

Because of course he fucking ran out of cigarettes. The one fucking thing that he hadn’t had in an eternity, that his bones ached for, was gone, and – _ah fuck_. The sharp ringing of glass scattering into a brick wall blasted into his ears. He didn’t even realize he threw the glass that had been left on the table.

It didn’t matter. He could fix it later. He took another swig. It didn’t matter. And, just as he was really making a dent in that bottle, a hard knock pulled him out of his haze.

No, it couldn’t possibly be.

And then another.

“Fucking Merlin’s balls, I swear.” Percival snarled, pulling himself off the couch and – he fell right into the coffee table as his feet struggled to walk to the same place.

_It’s a fucking stupid table_ , Percival thought as he kicked the wooden leg out, causing it and its various books and trinkets to fall to the floor with a crash. This whole room was a joke. The whole house was nothing but a fucking reminder of what being a Graves used to mean, but what fucking good did it do now? They were all dead! Percival was the last remaining idiot wearing the brand, in a house that had never been truly his, that was too much, that was everything he hated about his name and-

Something cold and wet hit his cheeks. And his nose, and ears, and-

There was a hole in the roof, allowing the rapidly growing blizzard outside to pour in.

Percival looked down at his shaking hand to see his wand in a tight grip.

Oh fuck. He didn’t – the spell – he didn’t even remember-

_Get a grip, Percival, get a grip. Don’t you fucking cry. Graves men don’t cry, they keep moving._

_So move._

Swallowing hard, Percival stumbled his way into the hall only to be greeted with the hushed whispers of his ancestors.

“Shut up,” he growled, pointing his wand up to each cowering painting. “All of you, just shut up.”

“Percival, it’s-”

Percival turned on his heel, wand at the ready to blast away the far-removed uncle or whoever it was, but stopped when he saw his father. A proud man with a heavy beard, he stood tall where the other men and women cowered, including his mother behind him. Even his mother was scared as she looked on at Percival as if he were a monster.

_Maybe I am._

“Son, it’s alright,” his father whispered. “It’s alright to grieve.”

“The hell do you know,” Percival snapped back. “You and mother died at the same time. _You know nothing_.”

Percival began to move away, but the portrait continued. “I mourned your grandfather when I was merely a boy. And your grandmother when I was still learning to take care of you. I do know.”

“No,” Percival shook his head. “You hid yourself in your office day and night. I called for you – I _begged_ for you to come out because I didn’t know what was happening, why gram wasn’t coming back and you ignored me,” Percival said, biting back more tears. “When you caught me crying, you scolded me. Told me to be a man, so here I am.”

Before the blend of colorful oils could react, Percival slashed his wand at the portrait, ripping it off the wall and throwing it aside where it couldn’t bother him anymore. He could almost laugh at the reality – that a picture, a fraud, of who his father used to be was trying to suddenly give him life advice. At this age? He was beyond help.

The knocking persisted, hurried and hard, reminding him of why he was traversing through that hall in the first place. And he swore if it was DeSoto then-

“Ogden,” Percival sighed, taking in the short man flanked by the same Aurors that had escorted him and Tina to the cabinets that same week. “Who else?”

Bob, warming his arms under the storm, narrowed his eyes. “Just us three, Percival. May we come in? Quite chilly out here.”

“Go home, Bob,” Percival sighed, leaning into the door a little too much. He was just so fucking tired. “Take your Aurors and go.”

“Percival Graves,” Bob asserted, coming up the snowy steps. Percival wanted to raise his wand, to push him away, but this wasn’t just anyone. “You know better than to leave an old friend out in the storm.”

_After I came to your rescue two bloody days ago_ , Bob must’ve wanted to say.

Percival stood aside.

Both Aurors accompanying him were nearly a foot taller. They nodded to Percival as they stepped into his home, muttering a polite greeting that he couldn’t be bothered to hear.

“There’s refreshments in the kitchen,” Percival mumbled to the pair, pointing in the general direction of the kitchen. Or so he thought. It didn’t matter – all halls were connected; they’d find it eventually. He wanted Bob alone for whatever might happen. “Please, help yourselves.”

Once they were out of earshot, still in the foyer underneath the heavy chandelier brought from Portugal nearly a hundred years ago, Percival cleared his throat.

“Grindelwald’s sunk his teeth deep into your government, old friend,” he said without much ado. If he could count on anyone not stopping for small talk, it was Bob Ogden. “Your dear President had you arrested for treason before some kind of sneaky escape. Or so they say.”

Percival scoffed, palming the intact wood in his pocket. “Do you believe her?”

Bob’s eyebrows nearly shot off the top of his head but Percival did not miss his old partner doing the same thing. He sniffed the air a second, probably taking in the alcohol flowing freely from Percival's breath, but he said nothing of it. “If I did, you’d already be petrified on the floor with drool hanging out of your mouth like an English bulldog.”

The imagery was quite refreshing, even with the cloud hanging over his head. Still, Bob continued.

“You’re a wanted man, hiding out in your own house, with no wards.”

“Yes, quite,” Percival hummed, uninterested in continuing that train of thought any longer. “Why are you here, Bob?”

“To get the bloody bastard,” he said. “And all of his people. We need to pull every last one of them out, root and stem.”

“I’m not going,” Percival said with more strength than he did to DeSoto. “And neither should you. This isn’t worth it.”

“Not worth it? Percival – it’s the future of our world. It’s the only thing that matters and we need you.”

“You don’t need me,” he said, indignant. “No one does, just-”

“There are over a dozen Aurors out there – _your_ Aurors, waiting for instruction from _you_ ,” he said. “We have reason to believe that Grindelwald is still in New York City,” Bob continued, wrestling with his desire to knock Percival in the teeth. “This is your chance at redemption.”

“Redemption?” Percival couldn’t help the sinister laugh that escaped his throat. A cold, dry laugh that ached against his ribs. “You think, after today, that I give a flying fuck about _redemption_?”

“Not for you,” Bob raised his voice. “But for her. At least do it for her, Percival-”

“SHE’S DEAD!”

Bob cowered; the chandelier at the foyer shook, the hundreds of dangling glass pieces clinking together.

He tried to swallow but found a heavy lump there, that wasn’t there before, that he’d been avoiding so well.

Oh fuck it was happening. He was breaking and he couldn't stop it. Fuck.

“She’s _gone_ , Bob,” the words barely made it out of his mouth. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over. They’ve taken everything, and,” he continued, stammering. “I just. _I just don’t care_.”

Bob took a step forward again, reaching to him, his eyes wet with pity. “Percival-”

“Stop,” he growled, shrinking away from the gesture and pulling out his wand at the same time. “You should’ve stopped me.”

Bob tore his eyes from Percival’s wild ones, noticing the sleek wood pointing to him. His Aurors heard it all too because they were around him at once. He was surrounded by wolves like an injured calf.

“I-what? Stopped you from what, exactly? Sharing your life with another? Loving someone?”

“If I’d kept my distance she’d still be alive. She’d be here, right now-”

“With both of you living a half-life? Always pining for one another – I beg you, Percival, is that any way to live?”

“At least she _would_ live!”

Bob was about to speak up, to continue the assault but stopped with the words still on his tongue. He looked around a moment, at the battered house, at the remains of the man in front of him before settling his eyes back to where they were. “This isn’t about her, is it?”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t deal with your own bloody emotions – that’s why you wanted to push her away. Because you can’t deal with loss, with hardship, with pain. It has nothing to do with the people, you just can’t bear to _feel_.”

“Bullshit.”

“Hogwash! That’s why you want to waste away in this bloody old house while drinking yourself to death, because fighting him would mean facing the truth, facing everything you’ve avoided for weeks now.”

“No.” Percival whispered but Bob continued.

“Because he did hurt you, he did take something away from you. But you don’t want to face it; just want it to go away-”

“ _Stop_.”

“-And hope that it never comes back - because you're scared. You hope that it fades and leaves you alone. Forgive me, Percival, but I can’t let it go on any further. You need to face yourself.”

“ _Get out_ ,” Percival snarled, his hand whitening from the grip on his wand. “Get out of my house.”

The tears were coming in quickly, pushing against his eyes and blurring the world once again. And Bob wasn't moving. No one was moving. He couldn't do this in front of them, Merlin, he needed them to _go_ -

“Boys, with me,” Bob finally snorted, pushing the door to the roaring storm outside. “Now listen here, Percival-”

“I don’t-”

Now Bob was the one nearly at his throat, snapping like the angered badger Percival often times compared him to. “ _Listen, damn you_. We’ll be at the Brewhouse with the rest of your Aurors, planning a counter-strike. If you decide to join us, you’re always welcome.”

His Aurors walked ahead, no doubt relieved to leave the company of a mad-man in favor of a blizzard. But Bob didn’t move. He stayed, planted to the ground like one of his country’s queen’s guard. Bob turned to look at his men before turning back, his expression much more somber than before.

“I don’t know what it feels like,” Bob whispered, both bespectacled eyes a little glossier than before. “I can’t imagine, if it were Lilly or the kids. I can’t, and I’m sorry. But, I beg you, _I beg you_ , Percival, to mourn her tonight and join us in the morning. Please. We need you.”

The last few words were almost lost to the wind, and a part of Percival wanted to believe it so badly. That he was needed, that what he did made a difference. But it didn’t. It never did.

He closed the doors, without a bang that time.

There was nowhere to go. There were echoes of her everywhere he looked. Small things like forgotten hairpins or misplaced silverware; meaningless to an observer but a world of difference to him. Nowhere felt like the home he kept telling everyone else to go.

_Mourn her._

Percival sank against the front door, feeling the icy howls of the blizzard freezing his door but it did nothing to clear his mind. Instead, he could only focus on the jagged edges of the wand in his pocket. It weighed on his chest, dragging him to the cold, hard tile as his mind tried to forget to who it belonged to and what I meant to carry that with him. The wand was broken for a reason. It wasn’t with its owner _for a reason._

_Mourn her._

_I can’t_ , Percival responded, trying to keep himself from falling apart.

He needed to get out. Anywhere – outside – anywhere.

This house… this old home, it didn’t belong to him. To either of them.

He could already feel the pain building behind his ribcage.

Picking himself up, Percival marched through the back doors, against the winter flurry roaring past his ears. The sun was low now, nearly gone but he knew the way to the lake. The only place in the whole damn property that felt like it meant something; that didn’t have decades of shitty memories intruding on new ones.

The snow crunched beneath his feet, nearly enveloping him with each step. It was too early for these kind of storms, but it didn’t matter. He trudged on, until the trees disappeared into a clearing, until the whistling branches around him vanished into the calmness of the lake ahead.

He was back.

With a deep breath, Percival took a seat by the rotten tree they’d made into a seat, careful not to take her spot.

And, like the first time, he watched. Unlike the first time, he pulled the broken wand out and cradled it in his hands.

Tina’s wand had never particularly stuck out. Sleek, with a smooth finish and not showy like Seraphina’s, or elegant like her sister’s. A wand built for function, where its true power and beauty lay in the dangerously powerful core – the White River Monster spine - just beneath the surface. A wand that could easily be underestimated and overlooked, much like its master.

And now it lay across his lap, charred, torn, and distinctly cold. There was no gentle thrum of magic along the handle. No sign of life, or that it was anything more than a piece of wood.

The frozen lake was bathed in gold once again. A couple of birds sang in the distance, their gentle chirps filling the frozen air with some sign of life.

But there was no one there to watch the spectacle taking place in front of him. No one to lend him a jacket when the wind picked up. No one to take his hand and drag him to the ice and out of the funk he’d put himself in. Just a broken wand.

He had been such a jerk that day. All she wanted to do was go out and enjoy the snow day with him and he kept them crammed in his library doing something so pointless he couldn’t even remember what it was. When he came out with her he still barely treated her with any decency while she was sacrificing her own warmth for his. And then, after all that, after she picked up his broken body and put it back in the house, brewed a slew of potions from scratch that she hoped would help and put his hand back together, he pushed past her so rudely that she should have never given him another chance.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing his thumb over the mangled wand. “I should’ve been better. I could’ve been better.”

A splinter pricked him, but he ignored it. He deserved it. He deserved every little bit of pain icing his bones. She was there for him every step of the way – she tried where others wouldn’t have bothered, and this was how he repaid her kindness. By burying what was left of her.

“You tried to take care of me for years, Tina, and I-I always pushed you away. Every fucking time. Even after this week, even after everything I still managed to push you away _and why? What the fuck was I thinking?”_

He squeezed the wand again – _her_ wand, biting down the sobs he couldn’t hold back anymore as his lips mouthed a hushed _‘I’m sorry’_ one right after the other but without any air left to vocalize it.

“I need you here,” he gasped through the wave of tears cascading down his cheeks. “I’m broken, Tina, I’m broken. I need help. _I need you_.”

He needed her steady hand to calm him. Needed that hand to brush back his hair and untangle his mind. Without her there, there was nothing, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t be, he couldn’t. He wasn’t.

There was a hard, painful knot in his chest that twisted with every sob, a reminder that he was alive when she wasn’t. There was no relief to be had with each painful tear. Just more pain. More of a realization that he hadn’t done enough; that if he’d just been _better_ – at his job, with his emotions, with her – that none of this would have happened.

If he had just admitted that sooner, if he’d just let her in years ago, when she first wrapped her little finger around his heart then none of this would have happened. She’d be alive. She’d be sitting there next to him watching the sun set, drinking cocoa and drawing out ice-skates before the light retreated into darkness. And she wasn’t, and she never would be and-

His body, limp with pain, slipped from the seat and crashed into the snowy ground, the freezing water consuming him. And he let it. Every inch of him shivered but he knew not from the cold, and he let it. Because he’d failed; he didn’t deserve to get up. Didn’t deserve warmth. Warmth and love were for people who didn’t get captured, who didn’t destroy entire missions thanks to panic attacks, who didn’t cause their loved one to perish in flames. It was all his fault. All…

_No_ , his mind roared, the only flicker of light within him.

_Picquery._

They pulled him out of there before he could rescue her. They stopped him from bringing down the flames. Because of Picquery’s orders. Tina, Olly, Craster, Lopez. All dead because the President had picked Grindelwald and his cronies.

He’d done plenty wrong in his time at Director, but damn it to hell he wasn’t the only one.

She had to pay. She would not get to keep on ruling this country without the world knowing what she did against them.

Percival opened his eyes, the world a mess of blurs, but he sat, crunching the virgin snow.

It wasn’t fair. He lost everything. She had lost _nothing. Nothing_.

“I’m going to hurt her. And all of his people,” he growled, the pity twisting into rage, the tears drying where they sat. “After everything I did for her, after everything I sacrificed, she took you away. She took you from me.”

Except this time, no one else would suffer.

He would not go to the Blind Pig. He would not go to the Brewhouse.

Percival carved out a spot on the fallen trunk, where she had once sat, brushing off the snow and rotted chips that broke against his hands. He laid out the pieces of the wand, as if she would just come back from an outing in a few minutes to reclaim them. They were broken, they were cold, but they were hers, and they would watch the sunset even if she couldn’t. Even if _they_ couldn’t.

He straightened his tie.

Kicked the snow off his boots.

Wiped away all signs that Percival Graves had ever been capable of producing tears.

And with a pop, he disapparated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a downer chapter (again) but I do have a reason for this.
> 
> This was really interesting to write. Percival's mental health has been deteriorating since before the story even began but without any outlets or proper coping or even treatment, it's only gotten worse. I don't think the wizarding world has proper healers for this type of malady ("shell shock" as it was called at the time is just one of them), and it hurts people like our main characters who have these injuries and insecurities that no one can see - Percival most of all. While it's tragic to see him fall apart, I think it's vital for his development for him to try to overcome his demons without her by his side, just as it's important for Tina to test her armor in battle without Percival there to save her. At the end of the day, our loved ones can be a great support system but we can't depend on them to open the doors for us. Only we can do that.
> 
> Well we're back to Tina next chapter and it's a good one!


	25. The Graves Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With New York sealed off, Tina needs to find a new way into the city and back to Percival and their allies... she does not expect to uncover a major secret in the process

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few chapters left before the big finale! Get ready!

The sun had fallen, and with it, even the faintest heat to draw from.

Tina clutched her mount harder, the shivering so intense it seeped into her bones and shook against Frank, but he was no worse for it. She wanted to say that they were getting close to New York, that it would only be a few minutes but it was impossible to tell what part of the United States sat down for supper below her. There were thousands of lights from a populated city, fading slowly into the outskirts until they were back to the pitch-black corridor that she trusted Frank to navigate with each large flap of his wings.

It was almost peaceful.

_Peaceful_ , Percival had said. _Sitting on the couch with you, that was peaceful._

Her chest clenched at the memory and she clutched Frank just a little tighter for it.

“Frank,” Tina yelled over the booming wind against her ears. “When you see the city, we need to go around it. We need to keep going north.”

The city was covered in barriers by now from the Emergency level and having Frank fly right through it would trigger more alarms than the fourth of July. She needed to first get to Percival’s house and recover him as best as she could.

_If he’s still there_ , a sinister voice that wasn’t her own invaded. _If all the damage hasn’t already taken him._

“He’s stronger than that,” Tina whispered, wanting to hear truth in the words that blew into the wind. “He always was.”

She closed her eyes and saw the frail, shaking man that clung to her until the Healers arrived. The tears of relief never stopped, and neither did her reassuring words against bloodied ears. Anyone else would’ve succumbed but even then, he looked at her with eyes full of life and hope for a future that didn’t involve a cold, damp suitcase.

_I owe you that future._

Frank suddenly veered right, almost throwing Tina off and into the vast expanse below. It was overcast, with the glittering lights of New York spotting through the clouds like sunlight peering into her room in the morning. This was something rare, and if it wasn’t a life or death situation she would call it beautiful.

Percival’s house wasn’t too far. Just a few more miles north, past the crowded streets of the city and into gentler country where there was much needed peace and _space_ of all things. A rare commodity in the city, where the window of her room gave way to another brick wall within touching distance. What a joke. In the past, before she’d ever shared cocoa with the man, the idea of that house seemed to fit him beautifully. It was regal, in stature and name, with acres of land that no one could dare penetrate.

Once upon a time it may have been fitting.

“There, just ahead,” Tina pointed to the speck in the distance, surrounded by a heavy storm that weighed low. “Careful, Frank.”

As they approached the house it was impossible not to notice that the blizzard nearly obscuring the property was focused only on the house itself. Not a single cloud fell away from the others, instead raining down a frozen hell that belonged in record books.

Was this… did Percival create it?

It wasn’t unheard of, for a person’s emotions to spin out of control in such wild disarray that it affected the weather around them. Sometimes there’d be rain; if there was a particularly heated argument maybe even a thunderstorm. But a _blizzard?_

Frank came down by the front gates, shooting a flurry of snow into the air with the powerful gusts of his wings. He finally settled onto the snow, bowing down for Tina to dismount and-

_Mercy Lewis her legs!_

Tina practically fell off of Frank as her body, tired of being in the same tensing position for hours on end, gave out on her the second she shifted off of the Thunderbird. The searing burn in her thighs wasn’t even nearly as bad as the piercing pain on her back, and at any other time she would have stayed down to recover. But, as the blizzard roared around her, she knew there was no time.

It hurt, it ached, but there was too much at stake. Rest would come, but at that time, she needed to sprint through the heavy snowfall that crunched beneath her weight. Alone they were vulnerable. Together, they could take down Grindelwald and an army.

Heart pounding, Tina pushed the front doors open with ease. They were unlocked. Percival would never leave the door unlocked.

She clutched her wand just a little tighter and stepped into the old home where her breath materialized in front of her – even with the door firmly shut.

There was a breach somewhere in the house that allowed to storm to enter. The door was unlocked.

_Percival._

_Please_ , Tina thought, skulking through each darkened corridor with a textbook of spells at the tip of her tongue. _Please don’t let me be too late_.

It was the same thought that plagued her the night she ran from room to room, shouting his name. Now she was back, to the same, cold house, looking for evidence that its master was still alive. A whispered _Revelio_ brought her no alarm, and no relief. Bodies didn’t cause the spell to react. But Tina pressed on, until she was trying not to run up the stairs to the closet of a room strategically next to his. It was a small effort to keep a better eye on him, but she found the room fit her purposes well. Small but not confining, with a window to the outdoors and a floor that creaked hard enough to alert of any intruders. Perfect for an Auror.

And, it was locked, beyond an _Alohomora_ that fizzled and died at her feet.

But not beyond a firm kick beneath the doorknob.

Tina grinned. Percival loved his advanced magic, but he always did ignore the good old no-maj tricks.

She spoke a _Lumos_ that filled the little room with light and found it to look as if she never even slept on that bed. But she _had_ seen him, right there! He was laying there, half-asleep and covered in tears he would never admit to. Shikoba’s concoction wouldn’t have made any of that up – would it?

No. Tina didn’t need to pick up the pillow to make out the rugged scent of pine trees and mint that accompanied him since the day they met. He had been there.

He had been there, and he either willingly left or was taken while incapacitated. There was no sign of a struggle anywhere in the house; no broken furniture, no torn paintings, not even-

_The paintings._

They had uncovered them the first night. Percival’s relatives were everywhere, something that was normally to every woman’s dismay but may save his life that night.

There were over a dozen in the main hall alone. All bearing intricate silver frames without the usual spots of age, they glared down at Tina like the stranger she was. These weren’t just any relatives – they were former Aurors, Politicians, and even a Banker or two if the golden hand pin over their heart was anything to go by.

“I’m looking for Percival,” she said, raising her voice for all to hear. She dragged her wand from portrait to portrait, watching as each man squinted and berated her for her indecent behavior. If only they knew. “I know you’ve seen him.”

“Seen him?” One of the hefty men at the end bellowed. His brows seemed to be permanently furrowed, as if no happy thoughts were capable of passing through. “The mad boy nearly killed us all!”

_You’re already dead_ , Tina wanted to say but all of his relatives looked like they could kill with a single stare.

“Don’t be _ridiculous_ Argus,” an older woman covered in white furs rolled her eyes. An exact replica of Percival as a lady – down to the mole and the brooding eyes. “He threw his parents on the floor. I hardly call that mad.”

“More like Tuesdays at Graves Manor.” A skinny man huffed, his hair tied tight in a ponytail.

The woman was saying something back but Tina took her attention and her light to the floor. It didn’t take long to see a portrait that had been torn down from the wall. The silver, still new and shining was now covered in gashes that ran deep into the metal.

Tina hung it back, to the empty spot on the wall and waited.

It was an empty library, not much different from the one in the house. A partially open door in the back suddenly creaked, allowing someone to come through. And not just anyone. The man – Percival’s father – narrowed his eyes and Tina instinctively shuddered. She knew that look. “You’re her, aren’t you?”

“I-”

“Don’t kid yourself, Art. Any girl that can steal Percival’s bitter old heart must be a looker,” the hefty man proclaimed. “This one looks like she crawled out of the gutter-”

Percival’s father growled loud enough to shut him up. The door behind him moved again and another figure walked forward but Tina could not see who. “She _looks_ like an Auror.”

When it was said like that, Tina hardly felt it necessary to correct the man.

A fine lady with a kind smile that must’ve been softened by the painter’s eyes stepped up from behind Percival’s father. She had the same little dimples that Percival did on the few times she’d managed to pull the rare thing from him.

“He left in a huff. His father didn’t exactly help.”

She glared at the man beside her and while Tina expected him to remain stoic, he did not hide the pained look in his eyes. “Aye, it’s true. We heard him arguing with someone from across the pond. Heavy accent on that one.”

Bob. Bob was in New York and managed to get through the barrier covering New York City – _but how?_

“He’s the Director of Magical Law Enforcement in England,” Tina explained. “They’re friends. Or, the closest thing Percival has to a friend. Did you hear anything specific? Did they mention Grindelwald?”

“Ah, that name,” another family member answered; this one with a hint of an Irish accent that could not be mistaken. He always thought his family was French! “Yes they talked ‘bout the bloke. Something about him still being in the city but-”

“-but Percival didn’t want to go after him,” Percival’s mother answered. “It angered the others.”

“Others? Were there more?”

“Two Aurors,” Percival’s fathered said. “Young, but not naïve at least. They took some fruit from the kitchen before rushing back, armed.”

_Armed._ Did he and Bob fight? There was no sign of a scuffle. No, this must’ve been merely angry words thrown between two grown men who should know better at a time like this.

“Did they say where they would be? Someone’s house, or back at MACUSA?”

His parents took one pointed look at each other. “Their Director may have, but we couldn’t hear. He was jogging halfway out the door, as if Percival was some kind of untamed beast.”

His mother cringed at the last word but her husband seemed none the wiser.

This wasn’t useful. She needed more. “Were they the only ones that came by?”

“No,” the hefty man from earlier piped up. “A man came in. Auror, too, by the clothes. They’ve sure changed since my time; back then, young lady, a three-piece suit was the minimum-”

_DeSoto._

“Thank you, Mr. Graves,” Tina interrupted to the baffled eyes he sent her. “But what did he look like?”

“I like this one, Seamus,” the stoic woman grinned, her pearly teeth shining against the darkness like a Cheshire cat. “Couldn’t see him. But, his voice wasn’t strange to me.”

A beat.

Percival’s family recognized his _voice_.

From the little she knew, they were only connected to other paintings within the home. They couldn’t have heard this anywhere else and Percival wasn’t exactly the kind of man to bring others over for tea. All of them had been covered when she and Percival came through the house – Grindelwald couldn’t have done it, someone else must have.

And if Percival had seen him…

It would explain why his first memory had been erased. Because Percival saw his betrayal, plain as day. The people who were there to support him and MACUSA suddenly stuffing him in an old briefcase-

“…Miss?” Percival’s mother said, pulling Tina from the haunting idea that one of Percival’s captors had been under her nose this whole time. “You’ll bring our boy back, won’t you? He’s, well,” she trailed, blinking away tears that crept onto her eyes. “He’s all we have.”

“Ginevra, please,” Percival’s father pulled his wife to him just in time for muffled tears to erupt from their portrait. “He’s a Graves. He knows his duty.”

This did not appease Mrs. Graves, who, while nodding, did not look the least bit convinced.

It was a simple sentence, but it explained so much of Percival’s proclivities towards self-sacrifice. It was always him at the front of the line, taking the worst hits that the wizarding world dared cast. Always him staying late in the office, so they could all go home. The man made himself into a shield for everyone in his care; even the detractors who held long-standing grudges with him. He was there for all of them.

_He knows his duty._

Tina felt a fire build inside her again. Rage; hot and blinding. He deserved better.

“I’ll bring him back,” Tina said, locking her promise in the eyes of every family member in attendance. This wasn’t a half-hearted attempt to appease anyone, or to bring false hope. She meant those words with every inch of her bones. “But I need your help. I can’t get into the city right now – not while it’s under a State of Crisis.”

“So how would Percy get in?” The hefty man questioned and he had a point. But somehow Bob, DeSoto, and Percival had managed to do it, so a way did exist.

“I think,” Tina said, looking around to the confused faces of every Graves family member in attendance. “Whoever helped set it up would know.”

The portrait on the corner shifted. It was subtle, but there. The man’s temples were quickly spotting with greying hair that looked like a spitting image of the lover she knew, if not for the monstrous scar running down the length of his face. It was a river sown into hardened skin, skewing his nose and splitting the hair above his forehead into two sides. Not pretty, but he didn’t pretend that it was. This was a man who had lost enough battles to not care about such petty things.

His suit looked more elaborate than any of the others; something fitting for the history books she’d fallen asleep on in school. A white cravat lined his neck in place of a bowtie or a tie like the others, the fabric shifting and crumpling as he moved to the light. It was only when Tina stepped up to the man’s portrait that she noticed the scratches and bumps lining the frame, or the small cuts on the painting itself that were absent from all others.

There was silence. His eyes bore into her as a living person would.

“Gondulphus Graves,” Tina said to the quick eyebrow quirk of the older gentleman. “If anyone knows the way around MACUSA’s systems, I would bet on you.”

Gondulphus scoffed before releasing a booming voice that resembled the growl of a lion. “Are you much of a betting woman, _Tina_?”

Tina tried not to smile at the intimidation attempt that ran in the family, even as all of Percival’s other relatives had shrunk back into the abyss.

“It depends,” Tina said, voicing her thoughts. “I bet when I can’t lose. If that makes me a betting woman or not is up to you, but given how you’re the only one in this damn place who paid enough attention to know who I am, who set up the foundation of everything we do at MACUSA, I have a pretty good idea that you can get me into New York. Am I making a bad bet?”

His arms came uncrossed, falling to his sides and into his pockets. Not much different from Percival’s habits when he pondered whether to charge into a collapsing building on a past New Year’s eve, or tried to decide what to do with her after the incident with the Second Salemers.

This man wasn’t just a distant relative. No, this was very much of a reflection of Percival Graves.

He cleared his throat, and not because it needed clearing. “Tell me, how would _you_ do it?”

Percival’s father snarled in the distance. “For the sake of Arthur, Merlin and Morgana, stop with the damn tests Gondulphus. This is our boy! The last in line!”

Gondulphus raised one hand in the man’s direction and everyone fell silent once again.

“There are wards covering the whole city, like a dome,” Tina started, working out the problem out loud. “Can’t just walk in or out. Or fly, even,” she said, thinking of Frank outside. “The floo networks are closed – I’ve tried. As are any portkeys.”

“As they should be,” Gondulphus agreed, looking away. “Doesn’t seem to stop the smugglers though.”

Even normal means normally didn’t. If the criminally inclined of New York had their sights set on a target, magical means weren’t enough to constrain them. The best the Auror team could do was to apprehend them after the fact, learn their methods and archive it in their portfolio.

Of course! Tina’s eyes lit up as she looked back to Gondulphus. “A vanishing cabinet. There’s a vanishing cabinet that leads into New York.”

One of them got her all the way to London and back, and Percival knew about them during their mission at the Silent Owl. There must have been more that she never even dreamed of discovering.

Gondulphus pressed his hair down. Another one of Percival’s habits in times when nerves rattled him too loudly to keep contained, but not enough to alert the squad. If only he knew that everyone in the team had picked up on that and gripped their wands just a little tighter whenever the Director’s hand so much as neared his hair.

“Precisely. It’s a bit of an old Graves family secret, but yes, there’s one cabinet a few miles from here, in the attic of the Hibernating Bear. Can’t miss it, only place with a roof so red you’ll think you’re in hell. It’ll take you to a bar in the city; less than reputable, run by a goblin named-”

“Gnarlak. I’m afraid we’re acquainted.”

Even saying the name felt like poison on her lips. When Newt asked about Percival, he seemed to know much more than he led on. Did he know about Grindelwald and the switching that took place?

Would she ever let him live if he did?

“Correct. His family has owned it for centuries now,” Gondulphus continued. “I’m surprised Percival has never told you about it.”

_I won’t always be able to share everything with you, and it has nothing to do with trust._

Percival’s words had been etched into her mind that night. The existence of these cabinets had, no doubt, been one of these secrets, but it didn’t bother her. Maybe a younger, more naïve Tina would find those words brought an ache to her chest as the scent of betrayal crept up from nothing. But not now. Not after everything. After all, they had only been dating for all of four days.

Four days! It felt so much stronger than that for a fledging relationship. She didn’t want it to end, not that night.

“Tina,” he said, his voice softening to almost imitate her lover. Was this Percival’s destiny one day? Alone and advising others as a scarred replica of a once great leader? It didn’t seem right. “When you see him, give him a message from me won’t you? Remind him that when winter comes, the lone wolf dies but the pack _survives_.”

She gave him a firm nod, and with that he stepped back to the armchair hidden in the shadows where he had once been watching. They were done.

Tina closed her eyes and saw Percival, in bed with tousled hair and a big smile on his face when she kissed his cheek and immediately felt the warmth creep into her chest. To think of more nights like those, curled up in bed together, talking about everything and nothing all at once while the fire crackled in the distance. It was better than the bright sun in the middle of summer, better than hot cocoa in the dead of winter and it lifted her, even in the darkest of times.

“ _Expecto Patronum Nunt_ -”

A loud pop pulled her from her thoughts and reduced the animal jumping from her wand into vanishing wisps. It came from inside the house. Another pop, this one louder – closer.

A taboo. They put a taboo on the Patronus charm.

Before there were even footsteps to give her warning, something pulled her wand hand up and to the end of the hall. Working on instinct alone, Tina bellowed out a curse of flame and light that lit up even the darkest corners of that edge of the house before tearing through wood and stone that had been there far longer than she had. When it collided, it blew apart that wall with such ferocity that it nearly sent Tina flying back if she wasn’t ready for it.

Thunderbird tail feather cores responded to danger; before the caster even knew of the trouble.

Shikoba’s gift may have just saved her life.

“Watch it, Miss Auror,” Percival’s father whispered before retreating elsewhere, along with all the other men and women fleeing their portraits. Probably to a safer part of the house. Still, as he disappeared his voice carried into the room, distant and barely audible. “They always come in pairs.”

Two pops – two enemies.

Waving a blanket of transparency around her, Tina tiptoed through the wreckage, to where her spell made contact with the nearby wall. She was careful not to touch any pebbles or draw any attention; not until she knew who her adversaries were.

Something moved beneath the sea of bricks and dust.

Tina stilled, freezing her next breath.

The hand that broke through grasped at the weight, trying to take one last breath of life under the suffocating pile and, against all odds Tina wanted to help. She wanted to believe that there was still some good in this person; that they could be convinced of Grindelwald’s madness.

“Help,” the man gasped. Tina knew this voice – it was the same man in the apartment when Travers showed up. They left the town, but not the battle. “Travers! Please!”

“You dolt,” Travers suddenly came around the corner, wand drawn before she zapped the hand reaching out for her. It shook and fell, lifeless and limp. “Nothing personal Penn. No loose ends.”

She killed him. The man was on her team – was an ally she may have personally recruited – and she ended his life just as he hoped she came to save him.

This same person would stop at nothing to harm her and Percival – Tina could not let her get to him.

Taking the advantage of stealth, Tina growled a hasty _Stupefy_ from the cover of her glamour. Travers barely had time to look up before the spell hit her square on the chest, throwing her wand into the air but Tina didn’t stop there. She leapt up, advancing past the hall and throwing another stunning spell onto the surprised witch.

Travers limped away, no doubt from Tina’s spell, barely dodging the offense Tina didn’t even realize she was capable of after such a grueling day. But if it was going to end, it would be with fury and blood, with a spell at the tip of her tongue. It would not end in the desert, it would not end in a hospital bed.

It would not end.

“Goldstein,” Travers suddenly snarled, wandlessly lobbing a ball of light and energy like a ball. Tina ducked under the nearby desk of Percival’s library, dodging the spell that blew the above bookshelf to pieces. “You’re a pain in the ass to kill.”

No more games. This wasn’t just any one of Grindelwald’s cronies, taken from the streets or the typing desks of MACUSA. Travers was an Auror, trained to be a deadly arm of the government they served. They had trained together, gone through all the tests Percival and the other Seniors threw at them for the chance of wearing one of those leather jackets, and now she was the final test.

Failure wasn’t an option. But, for Tina, it never had been.

“He’s dead because of you,” Tina yelled into the darkness before slinking behind another piece of furniture. “Because of your blind faith in your master.”

A burst of red shot out from across the room and exploded into the wall close enough for Tina to feel the heat of it against her cheeks. It was pure power, channeled and perfected in a way that only the best Aurors were capable of. Tina wasn’t surprised. Training under Percival meant that expertise in wandless magic was a must, and given Grindelwald’s ease with it, she suspected Travers had more than one mentor to draw this knowledge from.

Travers threw another ball of energy, lighting up the room and blinding anything with eyes. This was it, this was her chance – wand raised, Tina shot spell after spell at the direction the light came from, until her arm ached, until her throat dried.

“He joined because of you!”

Another blast smashed into the adjacent bookshelf with such ferocity that chunks of splintered wood exploded in all directions but Tina ducked just in time to miss the deadly shrapnel.

“Dawlish was a fool,” Travers taunted, her voice echoing through the hollow room. “It takes a fool to die by your hands, Goldstein!”

Tina fired a _Confringo_ at the moving shadows in the distance, immediately diving under a nearby desk before even seeing if her spell connected. They key to winning this was to keep moving, to stay one step ahead.

It required patience.

That, and to get her to lose her temper. An enraged opponent was as good as a novice with training wheels. So, Tina continued firing off the best insults she could. “What will that say about you?”

Tina was about to move to another hiding place when she caught a familiar glint of polished Blackthorn standing out in the middle of the rubble. Travers’ wand.

But Tina wasn’t the only one to notice.

Out of the darkness Travers flew down, calling her wand with an _Accio_ but Tina threw the nearest table between them, slamming the wand back into the chaos they were creating.

Travers may have been a beast in wandless magic, but wanded magic was still superior. It wasn’t just about power, but precision and accuracy. Percival trained them to know wandless magic for emergencies, but wands were always preferred – even he never entered a duel without it.

Tina barely saw her shadow dash across the darkened room, searching for the wand that would clinch her this duel but Tina was one step faster and threw all the wood and stones straight to her. The only way to avoid it was out, through the hall, just where Tina was waiting. It was almost the perfect trap.

But Travers wasn’t as dumb as her loyalty to Grindelwald indicated. The ground suddenly shook, nearly throwing Tina from her hiding place as wood crunched and metal screamed. Tina dashed across the room, dodging a rounded pillar that had once held up the noble house while looking for her opponent. If Travers took the foundation apart, her main advantage would be lost – she needed another way. Travers was still fresh from hiding and had more sheer power behind her spells than Tina could muster.

But sheer power rarely won duels. Travers would not give up without a wand.

It was a wild idea – a gamble of all things – but if it worked it would eliminate at least one problem that night. This battle for New York and the rest of the world; it was worth it.

“Come out, Goldstein,” Travers snarled from somewhere ahead and Tina lunged forward, running past flying debris and remnants of walls as she slashed the brightest spells she could. “You were always so good at hiding. You hide from everything. It’s a wonder Picquery didn’t fire you.”

Tina shot another _Bombarda_ and the accompanying light illuminated the taunting woman, crouching underneath a desk with a fire in her eyes that rivaled that of any Auror. Travers raised her hand, a counter-spell at the ready that collided with Tina’s spell with a blast that threw both of them off their feet.

It was enough to knock the wind out of Tina’s lungs for more than a few precious seconds – but not enough to keep her from roling her new wand under the fallen wall by her side. At that moment, there was no pain shooting through her spine or a shrill ringing in her ears. Just quiet. Peace.

And, too quickly, it was over.

Tina opened her eyes to a shadow standing over her. Travers pushed a heavy foot down Tina’s ribs, smiling in smug victory when Tina gasped for air. She was going to break – just a little more pressure and her ribs could crack beneath the weight of a traitor.

“I wish you could see Graves’ face when I bring in your body. What a shame.”

Travers raised the wand, the rigid Acacia that Tina had dropped when the spell sent them both flying, and yelled out the Killing Curse that was supposed to be forbidden even by Aurors. Tina closed her eyes instinctively, waiting for death to pull her out of this mortal plain but instead found the once heavy weight on her chest gone; thrown across the room as if someone else had slammed into her.

It worked. Mercy Lewis, it worked.

Whatever was left of Percival’s library and sitting room sat around her, crumbled and wasted into bits that even the best magic would have a hard time repairing. When Tina finally found the strength to sit up and call her wand back, she saw her rival by the door, arms and legs splayed in every direction. Not moving and not breathing.

She wasn’t sure Dawlish’s wand would react as viciously towards Travers as it did to her. After all, she suspected that a big part of him joining Grindelwald had to do with Travers being a part of it. But it must’ve heard the harsh words spewed about its master, and, as Tina hoped, it lashed out again the person stupid enough to use it with a magnificent backfire that tore life out of its wielder.

“Tina?” A familiar voice said from somewhere in the distance. Merlin, it sounded so much like Percival that Tina nearly forgot he was missing. “Did you survive, Auror?”

Tina fought to stand, holding onto whatever furniture she could as her legs screamed in protest. She would never be proud to admit it, but, she needed a Healer and a bottle of Gigglewater.

No. _Two_ bottles of Gigglewater and a damn cigarette.

“Yeah,” she yelled back, walking to the portrait barely hanging onto the wall. Gondulphus stood by the front looking like he could jump out at any moment. “Sorry about the house, sir.”

He turned to look at the destruction – what was left of it anyway. Most of the roof was missing, allowing the fluttering snow to rain in and start to accumulate in a way the dust never did. Somehow, she suspected Percival wouldn’t be too upset. He never showed much love for the place.

“The house is supposed to repair itself,” Gondulphus said, looking alarmed for the first time. Even as a painting, the worry wore down the man who walked as if he knew no fear. He looked somewhere behind Tina and lowered his voice. “It only doesn’t if the last remaining Graves resigns from this house or dies.”

Just as Percival said the first time they stepped foot into the ancient place together.

There was a hushed murmur behind her, a ‘ _what did he just say’_ from one of the women and Tina tried not to look like her heart was leaping out of her chest.

The door wasn’t locked. There were no wards.

_Percival wasn’t planning on coming back._

“I’ll find him.” Tina said, wielding the surging adrenaline as if it were liquid luck itself. Her feet ached with blisters, her eyelids sunk with yearning for a warm bed, and whatever new scrapes she acquired only served to darken her clothes with blood but it would have to wait.

The weather outside wasn’t much better. Frank, the ever-dutiful Thunderbird that still took her breath away flew down to greet her and for the first time she wasn’t terrified to sit tall atop his back. In a way, it was liberating and she was sure no one from the Auror team would ever believe her wild story. Heck, she wasn’t sure Percival would buy it.

They flew low, under Tina’s Disillusionment Charm, staying on the path Gondulphus had mentioned until they spotted the little cabin with the red roof. It was deep in the woods, the tall pine trees nearly blotting out the existence of the shop. She imagined Percival and his family retreated here often for a bottle (or two) of firewhisky after a hard day surrounded by in-laws; it’s what she would’ve done.

She departed Frank again, making false promises of food once again before he made his way to safer skies. The lights were on, and she expected to find a cute, merry place; full of people who had worked there for generations. What she found instead nearly had her falling out of the porch and into the densely packed snow outside.

Tina gagged, grasping her mouth to keep from breathing in the toxic fumes of death and decay that rivaled even the worst crime scenes she’d been unfortunate enough to investigate. There was no need to look for evidence of foul play – not with blood smeared along the walls leading to the basement and not a single person in sight. Because whoever had come through did not leave the petite waitress in the flowing dress or the busboy who barely looked old enough to be out of school as a witness.

Was this… was this Percival’s doing?

It was sloppy, but powerful. Fueled by emotion, but incredibly precise. It could’ve been an Auror. It could’ve been him.

The sickening image of a vicious Percival from the dream flashed in front of her eyes but Tina shrugged it off.

Just as Gondulphus warned, the gaudy looking cabinet sat at the end of the stairs. It was smaller than the one in the Silent Owl but no less an eye sore that clashed with everything else in the once cozy bar.

Tina opened the door. It groaned, blowing cold wind instead of music and merrymaking from a few days past. If it was safe or not she couldn’t tell, and didn’t have time to wait. Too much was on the line. She stepped in and shut the door, resigning herself to her fate.

If it had been her first time, she would’ve said that nothing happened. All remained quiet.

She pushed the door open slowly, tentatively, wand ready for whatever lay beyond. The room beyond her was dark but a _Lumos_ would be too risky. Instead, Tina pulled out the eye-patch her lover had left, watching in awe as the room exploded in glittering light. If this was the Blind Pig, it must’ve been somewhere deep within the bar, past the kitchens, past the private rooms Gnarlak would swear didn’t exist.

What was surprising was that there was no one to stop her. No detection spells had blared to announce her arrival, no eerie feeling of being watched. Nothing. Just another quiet hall, emptying into another, smaller unstaffed bar meant for patrons requiring a little more privacy.

At least the light returned, but Tina kept the patch on.

Life began to return to the little bar as she crept up a flight of stairs, under the cover of another Disillusionment Spell. If she even caught a whiff of that damn goblin, then-

DeSoto. Standing by the empty bar like he owned the place.

Tina crouched back behind another wall, away from any of the other patrons as she watched her colleague make small talk with the resident house elf. He looked her way, like he was searching for someone before turning back to his glass of water. Because of course he’d be drinking water.

“…I can let you know if he comes through,” the house elf shrugged as Tina stepped closer to the conversation she wasn’t supposed to be hearing. “Go home, boss. S’a cold night, y’know?”

DeSoto looked down at his watch with a frown. “I really thought he’d come.”

Percival hadn’t come through. Or, he did it under the same transparent blanket that Tina did.

He dropped a couple of coins onto the bar, not caring that they nearly flew off all over the place. The house-elf scrambled to collect his payment while DeSoto gave no shits at all about the inconvenience, pulling on his coat as if it had wronged him.

He was out of there in a huff, not noticing Tina hot on his trail. In fact, he never bothered to look back once during the entire walk. Tina would always duck behind other commuters and food carts, cars and ads, but he continued walking as if there was nothing to worry about; as if he owned the town.

Maybe in his mind he did.

New York was quieter than she’d ever seen it, between wizard-kind and no-maj alike. One of the restaurants at the corner, famous for its Buttervodka recipe, had both its no-maj and magical entrances shuttered without a sign of life inside. All of the shops weren’t just closed, but boarded up, as if a hurricane was coming into town at any minute. Whatever Grindelwald had done, whatever he was planning; it put a heaviness in the air that anyone could feel, and the longer Tina walked outside in the frigid air, the more she felt herself yearning to retreat indoors too.

If this was a side effect of the Crisis; an aura cast by MACUSA, she wasn’t sure.

DeSoto suddenly stopped, barely giving Tina enough time to slide behind a vendor’s closing stand. He took one look to the side, almost looking as if he was sniffing the air for something, before turning into a nearby building.

Tina knew better than to run in. She stood outside, waiting, watching the darkened windows until the one of the fifth floor lit up. Perfect.

Quiet as a mouse, Tina opened the front door and began trekking up the stairs. This was not a magical building, but it could easily contain magical traps.

Yet as she walked up the five flights of stairs, nothing lit up over her right eye, where the fuzzy patch still sat. Almost as if no magical person even left a trace. Still, Tina reached the only door, with light shining underneath and giving way to whatever was inside.

She was about to formulate a plan, a way in, when a shadow suddenly covered the little light leaking beneath the door. Tina was already halfway up the next flight of stairs by the time the doorknob began to rattle.

When the door opened again, DeSoto had dressed in a heavier coat and didn’t even bother looking around before walking back down in a hurry. Perfect. Once the main door to the building below open and shut, Tina slunk out of the darkness and onto the ordinary looking door, where a simple _Alohomora_ did nothing to stop her intrusion.

The apartment was what Percival might call Spartan. Bland colored furniture, made from cheap wood and imitation leather that could’ve been bought at any thrift shop. Everything – from the single couch in the living room area with missing strips of cloth to the lone dining room table where paint chipped off with a single touch – was cheap. They betrayed a man that wore outfits so expensive that Tina swore he spent his whole paycheck on them, and, maybe he did. Even the kitchen barely looked like someone used it for more than just pricey silverware storage.

And, worst of all, it wasn’t really that suspicious.

Had she been wrong to suspect him? Did she jump to a conclusion far too soon again? Tina hated to think that she hadn’t learned a damn thing from her incident with Mary Lou.

But she knew better than to continue, regardless of what her suspicions were. For the second time that day she held the heavy wand of contrasting woods and whispered a _Revelio_ that vanished into the walls around her.

And, almost immediately, the spell returned to her, burning into her fingers and yelling out a warning that nearly had her in a panic.

There was someone there. By Deliverance Dane, she wasn’t alone.

It changed everything. Tina immediately recast her Disillusionment Charm followed by a slew of quieting spells as she skulked about the darkened apartment. There was one door, barely open with light shining through its window and illuminating the yet-to-be-furnished room. Perfect.

But the second she stepped in, the air changed again. All of a sudden it was the same stink of rotted flesh and blood from the Hibernating Bear. From Percival’s case.

Tina’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, catching something slumped in the corner.

_Someone._

Mercy Lewis.

_No! It couldn’t be._

With a cautious step, Tina raised her wand to that corner of the room.

“Madam President?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!! Sorry to just drop this on you guys but I swear it's for the best :D


	26. Chaos is a Ladder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter, I hope you guys like it and it was worth the wait!
> 
> I did the Warner Brothers tour yesterday and they had some really cool MACUSA props especially Graves' suit! Will post pictures on tumblr later today for everyone (and boy those shoes are BIG let me tell ya).

The figure – the woman – on the corner winced, but didn’t move any further.

“It’s-it’s about time,” a familiar voice croaked out, raging with disbelief even if it did sound dry and rough. “Goldstein?”

Tina flew down to the battered woman, left only in a thin sleeping gown which at some point must’ve been white. It did nothing to hide the treatment she suffered in the time she’d been there – days, weeks? For how long did the Department of Magical Law Enforcement let another one of their officers go missing without anyone even noticing?

It was then, kneeling to the attention of MACUSA’s highest member that it hit her all at once, like falling into a frozen pond in the dead of winter.

Tattered clothes. Weakened physique. Picquery had been imprisoned there for an extended period.

The person she and Percival and all of MACUSA had been interacting with had not been her. In all likelihood, it was Grindelwald or one of his cronies. Flashes of memories of every conversation, no matter how insignificant, flew past her eyes. How many of those were real?

How many compromised the security of the entire country?

Picquery coughed, dry and rough. Enough to snap Tina out of it.

“Don’t move,” she instructed, flashing the little light from her wand along the President’s body for any damage that needed immediate repair. Picquery’s eyes flashed in and out of focus, the once intimidating pupils that shrunk anyone now wide under Tina’s eyes. And yet, like Percival, even under duress they still had that spark of life; that will to get out and rip apart the people that did this. “Stay with me.”

Picquery tried to lift her arms, but they clanked and stopped before they could push off her lap. Tina tried not to gasp at the sight of red, swollen hands for the second time that month, but now wrapped under heavy chains that connected to the wall of exposed brick.

Grindelwald never did like to leave things to chance. Not after his first prisoner found a remarkable way to escape with hands that shouldn’t wield magic. Tina tried to examine them but pulled away quickly when her energy was sucked out with a single touch.

“What day is it?”

She wanted to know how long she’d been captured. A part of Tina grimaced at the possibilities, replaying every little interaction she’d had with the President since Percival had been found.

“Friday, Christmas eve,” Tina whispered, pulling out Percival’s fly by night bone healing potion from her purse. “It’s probably one or two in the morning.”

Picquery straightened, the little effort causing her to groan against her will. “Merlin’s balls. A whole week in this damn excuse of an apartment.”

She was already cursing, with blatant disbelief of the situation at hand.

It was a good sign.

“Here, take this, ma’am,” Tina said, pressing the potion to the President’s lips. In a million years she never thought she’d be feeding something to the most powerful woman in America but at that moment Tina didn’t care much about formalities. Picquery coughed at the scent floating up from the depths of the oddly shaped flask. “It tastes like grass, and it’s still a lab sample. I normally wouldn’t want you – or anyone – drinking it but this is an emergency.”

Grass was an understatement. Perhaps grass that had rotted away after being buried for a decade.

She tipped her head back slightly, allowing Tina to pour the foul-tasting potion down her throat. Even from that distance the putrid smell was unmistakable and both women gagged. “And how in Morgana’s grave did you ever acquire _this_?”

“The infirmary.” Tina lied. A partial lie.

Picquery tilted her head away in protest, denying any more and Tina quickly obliged. “Jacobs?”

She knew. It shouldn’t have been such a surprising development for the President to know the ins and outs of all the departments under her nose.

“It’s alright, Goldstein,” she said, letting a flicker of a smile flash for a moment. “I know about the old goat.”

Tina released the air she hadn’t realized was tightly packed in her lungs. Lying under a disguise was easy; sometimes even fun. It was practiced and tested, a required skill for being an Auror. It wasn’t the same as lying directly to her superior. Maybe that was a skill she would never perfect.

“How long will I be blind for?”

Picquery blinked repeatedly, looking like she was trying to clear a stray eyelash before fixing that ever-intimidating gaze back to the young Auror.

“Right eye? Here, take this.”

Tina removed the little eyepatch she’d made into a trap detector within the little apartment. It caught in her hair, as with Percival’s, snapping up a few of her hairs before departing. Without any of her decorative headpieces to adorn her, it was easy to slide the device around her unkempt hair. This was something she was sure no one had ever seen and would certainly never hear about – not from her.

“Clever,” she hummed. “Almost makes this hellhole seem pretty.”

Even the strongest magic couldn’t accomplish that.

“I know you may not want to talk about it yet, ma’am, but, do you remember when he took you?”

“Remember it? I won’t soon forget it,” she said. “Thursday the 16th. I was already home, in bed. My wards – the same ones Graves set up years ago – were in place. I felt safe, but, I suppose everyone does in the comfort of their own beds.”

“Did Perc-did Graves reinforce them at all recently? Possibly in the last month?”

“You mean when this sorry excuse for a terrorist impersonated him? No, he never came to my house. Now that would have given him away; Graves and I weren’t in the best terms though I suppose that isn’t exactly news to the office.”

Probably had to do with the pesky issue of her demotion. Still, Tina nodded in acknowledgement.

“Regardless, he didn’t need to. DeSoto called on me, citing some sort of emergency and I, tired and foolish, allowed him in. Past the wards. All he had to do was wait for me to turn my back. It was by far the worst hit of the _Cruciatus Curse_ I’ve ever felt; worse than hot knives through flesh. It was so _vile_. I crumbled in my own home, after just a couple of hits. I can’t imagine how Graves survived his ordeal.”

“He’s stubborn,” Tina said with a fleeting smile. “He subjected Graves with it for hours. Grindelwald didn’t even look the least bit bothered by any of it. He was so clinical, like a Healer reading off a chart. Frankly it’s fascinating that a person can be this cold.”

“I see you’ve met him.”

“Unfortunately,” Tina said. “Saw it in Graves’ memories. A whole month’s worth.” The same memories Percival refused to share with anyone, that he didn’t even share with the one living person who has known him since Ilvermorny. Tina added a hasty “It was needed for the case.”

“I know the procedures,” Picquery said pointedly. “Well, I’m glad you were able to pry those out of him. Anyway, DeSoto pulled me out of my house and brought me here where I met his boss.”

“What does he want? He took Graves to get closer to the Obscurus, but did he give you any clue as to why he took you?”

“Clue? The bastard isn’t shy. Thinks he can turn this country to chaos by turning Graves against me. I imagine he’s been using this time to find creative ways to piss him off,” she spat, turning her glare to the door. “I believe he wants Graves to kill me – publicly. Can you imagine the outcry? It’s-it’s unthinkable.”

She hesitated over that last part and Tina knew immediately that Picquery was referring to the act of one of her oldest friends cruelly ending her life.

He could. He wouldn’t. She’d bet her life savings on it, even if it wasn't much.

“Now tell me – he’s had a whole week in my place. Besides certainly redecorating my office what has he done?”

What a loaded question. What hadn’t Grindelwald done? He’d gathered the other top brass at MACUSA to agree to sentence their Director of Magical Security to a hearing at a time he needed them most. He met with the Prime Ministers, not to mention the countless correspondences they must have shared in that short space with anyone of importance in the world. The truth was – as the President, Grindelwald had a full run of the place.

Tina began to tell Picquery about the hearing and any sign of weakness was immediately wiped off her face.

“You believed that I would actually support such a ridiculous measure? Against ‘Val of all people?”

_Val?_ Now that was a nickname Tina never imagined she’d hear. “He was convincing. Graves didn’t appear surprised; especially when you sent the two of us back to his house for the weekend.”

“I-what?” Picquery exclaimed, almost appearing healed for that moment. “You and Graves had it in your minds that I would have both of you retire to a crime scene? That I would have one of my oldest friends return to the one place on earth he wished to burn to ashes, just to resurrect and burn it down again, with a female subordinate of all people? Mercy Lewis, the rumors alone would fuel the entire Secretary pool for a year.”

A pause. Tina didn’t dare look her in the eyes.

She was right. At that moment, in that conversation, there was far too much that didn’t make any sense. The way Picquery seemed to jealous over her hold on Percival, how eager she was to pair the two of them up in that big house by themselves; a house that had, to her knowledge, hadn’t been fully cleared by the Tracing team.

How she promoted Tina.

Of course it wasn’t real. “That wasn’t all,” Tina continued, fixing her attention to the elaborate chains. “You-he-gave me a promotion.”

“You mean he confirmed your reinstatement as an Auror?”

“No,” Tina sighed, hating herself for believing Grindelwald’s lies. “He made me Assistant Director.”

Picquery raised her brow, much the way Percival did, but at least she didn’t burst into laughter. Now that the curtain had been pulled back, it was almost too foolish for anyone to believe. Her, Tina Goldstein, an Auror that had been demoted for stupidly attacking a no-maj suddenly reinstated at her job with a promotion a few days later, by the same woman who demoted her in the first place. Of course the real President would’ve never done that but at the time Tina wanted so badly to believe that she was an asset to MACUSA, that helping Newt subdue Grindelwald and pulling Percival out of prison were heroic enough acts to erase any misdeeds.

What a fool.

“Goldstein,” Picquery’s voice carried, low but purposeful. The President’s voice. “I won’t apologize for demoting you.”

“I know,” Tina said quickly. “I’m not expecting you to-”

“But I am sorry for the way I treated you,” she finished, shutting Tina up in a different way than they were both used to. “I could say that I was under stress, that Grindelwald’s name appearing on every memo, note, and newspaper headline had me short with everyone, but it doesn’t excuse the way I behaved for all those months. And, for that, I’m sorry.”

Tina kept her head down, watching as the potion worked its way through every mangled part of Picquery’s hand. It had been easy to hate the President after it all happened, especially with Percival coming to bat for her.

Which was exactly what Grindelwald wanted. A divided team was easier to conquer and impersonate, both things he’d done remarkably well.

Picquery rested back against the wall, closing her eyes in relief as the potion began sewing her bones together. Getting those hands back in working shape was one thing, but getting her out of the chains was another matter; one that even Auror training couldn’t crack so easily. These weren’t any department store anti-magic manacles. They had been adapted, with colorful runes embedded into the structure in a way that couldn’t easily be removed. Spells, no matter how powerful, would just bounce off; Grindelwald would see to that. Knowing his methods, it may even hurt the wearer.

But if she learned one thing about Grindelwald in the past month is that he completely neglected to account for magical means he wasn’t used to. He wasn’t ready to deal with Newt’s beasts and it was his downfall. He wasn’t ready for Percival breaking the law to rescue her; for him to summon a Patronus out of sheer force of will. The man was powerful, but he wasn’t omniscient.

Hm.

Tina fished through her purse, through extra clothes and books, and most importantly, her slew of potions. Maybe with the right mix of ingredients she could create something that could combust, maybe even corrode the precious metal.

Tina examined the manacles once more. Or… a key. There was a slot for a key.

“Madam President?”

It took her a second to lift an eyelid, as if it were a heavy weight.

“I need to check for supplies, outside. I’ll come back.”

For the first time, Picquery shot her a look of a panic; of betrayal. Tina could imagine the thought process – _this Auror just got here to rescue me and now she’s leaving?_

“I’m not going to leave you,” Tina reassured, grabbing her healing hands in a promise. Gods, she’d made so many promises that night, to the living, to the dead. “I’ll be right outside.”

Tina nearly fell apart. Picquery’s face collapsed into the exact same look of fear as Percival had the night she dropped him off at the hospital and the Healers took him away from her. It was a glare of betrayal of the highest caliber, but that wasn’t the worst of it – it was the person the look originated from. Picquery and Percival were role models for all of MACUSA. They may as well have been heroes; invincible, strong. The picture of success. And now, after the _Cruciatus_ and broken bones, the curtain had been pulled back. They too were human, trying to recover from a traumatic experience no one deserved.

It was a simple truth that no one else realized, because they never let them.

Percival walked into work, angry and brutish but a recluse. That’s the image he chose to display to his Aurors – of a man whose imprisonment was an inconvenience and that he was going to catch the sons of bitches who did this. No one saw him fall to his knees at the sight of his torture chamber, or wake up sweating from a nightmare. Just Tina. And no one would see Picquery stumble through the same woes either; they wouldn’t let themselves be seen that way by the people who looked to them for support. They were human, but they were never allowed to show it.

It may have been the path they chose, but it was also incredibly unfair.

“Here,” Tina said, pulling off her coat. It was dirty, bloody and needed to be thrown straight into the garbage but it kept her warm - and alive - when it mattered. She draped it over Picquery’s back but she wasn’t done. Tina swirled her wand over herself, enjoying the sweet embrace of the Disillusionment Charm before sticking it in Picquery’s lap. “Take this too.”

To an outsider, it looked like a ghost was handing a homeless woman a stick.

“Goldstein, don’t be ridiculous,” Picquery fought, the fight returning to her eyes. “I can’t even use this; not with these damn chains.”

“I won’t need it. I’ll be quick.”

Tina had already walked halfway across the room before Picquery could protest further, but the President knew the stubborn Auror too well to waste energy fighting. Instead, she embraced the winter coat, grasping Tina’s wand with both hands and for the first time looked utterly at peace with the situation. Even if she couldn’t use it, there was a certain comfort in having a wand in hand; something borne out of years spent always carrying the damn things everywhere. It was familiar. Wands were shields and swords, cloaks and daggers to Auror and Healer alike. It was almost an extra appendage, a part of their arm. At that moment, after whatever she experienced, Tina didn’t mind providing her President with any comfort she could.

Besides, she would be quick. She promised she would be.

The apartment was dark, and that’s the way it would stay. DeSoto could come back, the charm could fail and if Tina remembered anything from Percival it was to always account for the worst-case scenarios.

Using only the little light from the kitchen window – facing a wall, of course – Tina fussed through drawers and cabinets alike. Nothing. Empty, save for a couple of plates and some basic silverware. The pantry was not much better, lacking any of the common agents for causing any type of explosive of reactions.

Well, almost. All the way to the side, next to an active mouse trap that almost went off on her thumb, were coffee supplies. A coffee pot, ground beans, a tray of sugar. A small pot of cream.

It was nearly empty, but it was the best she’d seen. Now for a damn key-

A door flew open, bathing the little kitchen in light. Shit. Tina ducked underneath the small, round kitchen table, still holding onto the pot of cream as a set of legs marched from the front door, bringing with it the chill of the winter air outside. He was back.

And he wasn’t alone.

Another set of legs strode in after. Slower, more deliberate in his movements. Tina didn’t need to look at the man’s face to know who it was.

“What did you say to him?” Grindelwald said, trying to remain cool but the subtle, tapping toes showed something completely different.

“Everything we agreed on,” DeSoto said, angrier than she’d ever heard him. “The exact fucking script you gave me.”

In a flash, Grindelwald crossed the room and slammed the younger man against the wall with such a bang that even Tina jumped from beneath her hiding spot.

“ _What did you say to him_?”

“Exactly what you told me,” DeSoto roared back, pushing the world’s most dangerous wizard without a hint of fear at the consequences. “I told him the bitch was behind his cunt’s death. Fucking nearly killed me.”

Tina made a mental note of who was the bitch and who was the cunt in the traitor’s eyes without feeling even a tiny bit hurt. She’d grown up with worse nicknames.

Grindelwald pulled away, the frustration heavy in the little room as he paced back to the counter.

“We’re running out of time,” Grindelwald said, still pacing. He could hide the fear in his voice well enough but the twitchiness in a normally controlled man spoke volumes. “And Goldstein?”

“Killed Travers and Penn, in his house. At least, I think it was her. Can’t imagine it being anyone else,” he sighed. If only they knew Penn was murdered by one of their own. “Found this nearby.”

DeSoto pulled a long, yellowed feather from his pocket. Frank.

“It’s from a Thunderbird,” Grindelwald said. “Just like the one in Scamander’s briefcase. Seems your little Auror friend is a lot more slippery than you thought.”

“She’s just lucky.”

“This many times in a row? Admit it, boy, you underestimated her.”

He almost sounded impressed. DeSoto scoffed.

“If she didn’t get lucky with the Brit, she’d still be at the Wand Permit Office with that bimbo. She’ll never get to Graves before we do. It’s over, it’s done. If she even shows her face at MACUSA she’ll be promptly arrested for treason.”

Silence.

Neither man made any moves or even the faintest sound.

“And the prisoners?”

“Moved to the low security cells,” DeSoto replied. “Once Graves kills the bitch, I can get them through the cabinet. No one will even notice.”

“You’re making plans based on blind hope again,” Grindelwald sighed. “Tell me, what will you do if you get intercepted by your own team?”

“Please,” DeSoto huffed, a completely different man from the person they all hired. “I took out Graves. I can bump them off.”

DeSoto straightened his jacket, puffing his chest out like the proud Auror he never was.

Son of a bitch. So Grindelwald did have help that first night; the only one wiped from his memory.

“I’ve done every little thing you’ve asked,” he said, voice trembling. “ _I_ led them to the Silent Owl. _I_ got the cabinet inside MACUSA. _I_ obliviated the prisoners before Graves could peel anything from ‘em. All while you sat in your pretty little office, having your little meetings and-”

Grindelwald only raised one finger and threw DeSoto back against the door enough to shake the hinges. He coughed and gagged, grasping at his throat like a dying man.

“Don’t you _dare_ pucker up to me, boy. _You_ brought the wrong person down the portkey. _You_ failed to kill Miss Goldstein. Don’t think for even a second that if you hadn’t managed to pull off half the tasks I gave you that you wouldn’t be joining Graves tonight.”

Grindelwald closed his hand into a fist and DeSoto fell to the floor, still coughing and grasping at his neck. Grindelwald begun to say something else when DeSoto yanked a Dragot from his pocket, red and burning so bright she could see it from her hiding spot.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Someone set off the alarm at the President’s house,” DeSoto said, grasping for the door – the exit. “It’s Graves.”

He didn’t wait for his boss to say a word before slamming the front door, leaving them with only the muffled sounds of his running.

Grindelwald sighed, saying what sounded like a muffled “fuck”. He paced around the tiny hall enough times for Tina to memorize every little detail of the polished black leather of his shoes. Not American made at all. And then, he did the unthinkable. He pulled the chair right in front of her and sat down.

Percival was alone with his murderer and she had no way out.

If Grindelwald decided to check on his prisoner for even a second he would know she was there.

She needed to get out. Quickly. Quietly.

Sliding in between two chairs, Tina began to crawl. Just one more move, and breathe. Her Disillusionment Charm had been weakened, but it still held. Grindelwald would not even be able to sense her there. Another tentative step. Almost there. Thankfully it was a small apartment, not Percival’s enormous mansion of a home.

Grindelwald coughed. The sudden noise froze her in place, so close to Picquery and freedom.

She needed to move.

_So move, Tina. Move!_

One more deep breath. Tina took another step, reaching the door to Picquery’s prison. Grindelwald still remained sitting, eyes still focused on some paper on the table. Careful not to cause even the slightest of creaks, Tina slipped back inside and hurried to the President.

“I’m back,” Tina whispered, barely loud enough for either to hear. “Shh. He’s outside. We need to hurry.”

Picquery jumped at the sudden contact but nodded, guessing where Tina’s eyes were and missing terribly. But it didn’t matter. She had the cream, she had the mix of healing and sleeping draught from Shikoba in her purse. It was their only chance to free her, so Tina undid the invisibility and began to work.

“I don’t know if this will work,” Tina said, rushing the two ingredients together on the metal. “But it’s the best shot we have right now.”

“What is it?”

“Just a mix of a greater healing potion with cream. Dairy can have some pretty explosive effects with other ingredients, but the beans in this healing potion are milder. It may just burn right through the metal.”

“It may? What else _may_ it do?”

Tina breathed a cooling charm on the chains to complete the process. “It could always combust. But, it’s highly unlikely, with such a limited portion.”

It sounded reassuring enough. Picquery held her breath.

And then, a sharp snap. Both nearly jumped at the sound but the second that Picquery lifted her hands, the metal chain fell right through. She was free.

“Perfect, now let’s get you out of here,” Tina said, trying not to sound too excited. She knew better than to count her eggs so soon. “The window – have they ever enchanted it?”

“No. Not that I’ve seen.”

Tina pressed her hand to the cold glass and closed her eyes. The beauty about magic is that even in the most barren places it could be felt, even if it couldn’t be seen or observed. Magic had that way about it sometimes. As kids, it came to them as instinctual knowledge that a place or a person just felt _right_. As an adult, past years of Auror training, she knew what to look for and that window held none of it.

Grindelwald had gotten cocky once again.

“Come,” Tina gestured, helping the President up. “We can walk down the fire-escape.”

If she could ever get Picquery’s feet working again. She’d probably spent that whole week just sitting and while it wasn’t enough time for muscles to atrophy, it didn’t bode well either. Still, Tina held on tight to the frail woman clinging to her coat like armor and pushed the heavy window open.

The cold air blew in, chilling both to their cores but not deterring them. Tina helped her President squeeze through the small opening, careful not to push her too hard while also making it painfully clear that they needed to move quickly. Because all they needed was-

Light flooded into the room.

Tina barely had enough time to cast a wandless shield before a shot of lightning struck, sending her crashing to the floor.

She locked eyes with Grindelwald, expecting a cocky grin and a cheeky phrase but instead saw panic as his eyes went from her to the open window.

_The president._

Tina gathered all the power she had into her hands and smashed the window shut, throwing a _Stupefy_ straight at Grindelwald’s chest. _Always aim for center mass_ , Percival had said. _You’re less likely to miss_.

He barely dove out of the way in time. The ball of red instead hit the door and transformed it into an explosion of splinters flying in every direction. Grindelwald sent another bolt of white that hit the wall beside her, only looking at the window and treating Tina as an afterthought.

And why shouldn’t he? When Tina raised her hand again, there was nothing there. Just wisps of magic.

So Tina did the only thing she could possibly do – she charged him.

Because he would never expect it. Because he was too distracted by the escaping prisoner.

Because he deserved it.

_And it worked._

She slammed into him, shoulder digging into his ribs in an impact that took the air out of both parties. She wanted to hear them crack under her weight; wanted to hear him scream in pain for once. After everything he’d done to Percival, to their President, he deserved to take some of it in kind and that type of anger drove them straight through the door, until they were both rolling on the floor.

_“Crucio!”_

At once she felt every bone in her body break apart and be forcibly yanked from her skin and she screamed until her throat burned. She was only vaguely aware of Grindelwald running back to the room, to the window, then running outside. The pain only evolved, to her eardrums being ripped open, to toenails being stripped from skin, until she was sure she’d never feel whole again.

But she had to keep going. She had to fight. She was so close, Merlin she was close. Tina raised one hand, then the other, and crawled through pieces of shattered wood, through dust, to the door. The exit. She was so close.

That is, until it opened.

Grindelwald looked down with the intent to murder her where she lay. He was no longer cool and collected; the man she met and saw in all of Percival’s memories. This was a man who had lost and what was left of him was vile enough to swallow the whole apartment whole.

“You little rat,” he growled, picking her up by her hair. Any pleas died upon meeting those icy blue eyes. She would not beg. Not to him. “Always showing up where you aren’t wanted. What a wonder you are, Tina Goldstein.”

He shoved her into one of the empty chairs, immediately wrapping her legs and feet in thick rope that squeezed her flesh to the wood. It hurt, it burned, but not nearly as bad as the flickers of the _Cruciatus Curse_ still coursing through her body. She was on the cusp of death but it didn’t matter.

Picquery got away and she took Tina’s wand. She’d look for who she could trust and she would be safe.

Grindelwald’s game was over.

“You think you’ve won, don’t you?”

Grindelwald violently pulled up a chair, its legs screeching against the floor. She never imagined he could look more terrifying. “Where the hell would she go?”

Tina faced down the foreign wizard; her murderer – she was sure of it. “I don’t fucking know.”

Grindelwald immediately shouted the word she would grow intimately familiar with that night. It was another shock of blades piercing skin, tearing off appendages and just when she thought it was done he said it again.

Her safe space. She needed to divert her mind away from the daggers and flames to something comfortable. After all, Percival taught it to her for a reason. And so Tina dug and dug, to happier memories, to anything she could that took her away from that rotted little apartment in the bowels of Manhattan.

Until she was standing, quite comfortably, in Percival’s office.

Just a hint of mint in the air. A reminder of the holidays, even if he never seemed the type to stuff his face with turkey or relish in opening gifts by the fire. It was all so quiet, so serene. She couldn’t remember a time when she stood in Percival’s office without an Auror barging in, always with a bigger problem to set off that damn clock. It ticked quietly on the desk, sitting in front of the man himself who finally looked up from the four feet of parchment neatly stacked in front of him.

“Tina,” he said, looking at her like he hadn’t seen her in ages. “What are you doing here? What happened to Arizona?”

This wasn’t real. This wasn’t really Percival – it was Percival saying what she was really thinking of. But he walked around his desk and rest his hand on her cheek, catching the lone tear falling. It wasn’t real but it was his hand and she leaned into its steady warmth.

“I don’t know,” she blurted out. “I was trying to pull it up, but I don’t know what happened. Grindelwald wouldn’t stop and I was sure I was going to die. I thought of you.”

“Ah,” he smiled. This could never be real Percival – he never smiled that much. “Sometimes only the comfort of a loved one does its magic. Did ‘Phina get away?”

“Yes,” Tina said with a small smile herself. “She’s probably miles underground by now and I think Grindelwald knows this; he knows he’s losing.”

“He’s a smart man. I’m sure he’s piecing it all together right now, but, what’s wrong love?”

She couldn’t stop the tears from gathering and falling to his hands and Gods, he looked so much like her Percival. “I’m scared,” she said, voice obscured by tears. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want you to die.”

There it was. The confession she would never bring herself to make to the real Percival Graves. Aurors were supposed to challenge death every day. She couldn’t be cowering; not now. But she knew, deep down in her heart that’s what it was that brought her to his office. This man, the one in her mind just hugged her, letting her press into his expensive suit and tie and soil it with her shame. Because damn it, after hearing Shikoba’s words about his condition, after seeing Grindelwald enraged, she was afraid.

“Most people think Aurors aren’t afraid of death, but, in all my years it’s never been further from the truth,” he said, his voice as weakened as hers. “Many Aurors jump into burning buildings, in front of deadly curses because they don’t _respect_ death. Even I’m guilty of thinking I’m untouchable. No one thinks they’ll die, until death is knocking on their door.”

“How do you do it?” Tina asked, taking a deep breath, finding more comfort in his scent. “You must’ve thought Grindelwald would kill you at some point.”

“At many points,” he chuckled. “I accepted that my death would be in the pursuit of a cause – that of a better world for us. If Grindelwald waged war on America by spilling my blood, it made him easier to defeat. Sometimes I prayed he would be this stupid.”

“I’m glad he wasn’t,” Tina said, squeezing him tighter. How she’d give anything to really be with him at that moment, to put this all behind them. “I’m worried about you, love.”

Percival sighed, not in that tone of frustration she was used to but in a sad understanding of their situation. It was hard to believe that the man stroking lazy circles into her back was also in as much danger. It wasn’t fair. If anyone already suffered enough in Grindelwald’s hands it was him, and yet, Grindelwald wasn’t done with him.

“I worry too,” he finally said. “But I don’t think Grindelwald will kill you tonight. Fortunately, he stands to gain far more by keeping you alive,” he said, suddenly pulling away. “In fact, I think he wants to talk to you right now.”

There was no way he would know this – was there? But he was fading away, skin and clothes falling under a faulty invisibility cloak that left splotches of him still uncovered while Tina tried to grab on to any of him she could.

“Percival! Please don’t leave-”

“You already know what to do, love,” he said, retreating behind his desk even as the walls began to crumble and all the gadgets in the glass cases rattled and burst. “Think of all you’ve already done this week. You didn’t need me then and you don’t need me now, but I am here. Even if you can’t see me.”

What the hell did that even mean?

Tina tried to grasp onto this world, onto every bit of him but she was being pulled – whisked away and away-

“There you are, love,” Grindelwald cooed before Tina could even make out his face, so close she could make out just a hint of alcohol leaking from his lips. He had his hand on her cheeks, pressing into them hard and completely unlike the hands that had been holding her in her mind. “I was afraid. Thought I’d lost you.”

It was hard to move. She may as well have been set on fire and even meeting the maniac’s eyes took every bit of effort.

“She’s gone.” Tina said, stronger than she felt.

Grindelwald tsked. “She’s alone, broken and freezing in the middle of New York City. You’re quite right, _Tina_ , she is gone.”

He walked back to his chair, leaving Tina tied up. She tried to swallow, to wet her throat even a bit but there was no help. Merlin what she’d do for a glass of water. It explained why Percival’s first spell with his broken hands was _Aquamenti_.

A knock. On the front door of all places.

For a precious moment, both froze in place.

And then Tina yelled for help as hard as she could but Grindelwald snapped his fingers and pulled all sound out of her throat before walking, casually, to the door.

“Yes? May I help you?”

A grey-haired woman old enough to have seen the Civil War looked inside, past his head and Tina did everything to attract her attention but it was no use. She looked right through her.

“Everythin’ alright young man? We ‘eard some noise from downstairs – sounds like you got a pack of rabid dogs in ‘ere.”

“Oh nothing of the sort. Just some late-night furniture re-arranging.”

She muttered something about the time, about the noise but Grindelwald continued to make less and less plausible excuses. Something about falling, or knocking down a vase. Whatever it was, it worked, and he shut the door and all hope that someone would see.

But what good would it do? If the old woman had even hinted at seeing Tina, Grindelwald would have just killed her. It was always useless.

He took his usual seat but said nothing, leaving Tina to stew on just how alone they were. No Aurors would come to rescue her this time. No Percival. Not this time.

 “This isn’t your wand,” he suddenly said, holding up the rigid Acacia responsible for throwing her across the country, for killing Travers. Grindelwald didn’t know she had a new wand. He thought Picquery was defenseless. “Since he hasn’t reported to me all day, I take it Dawlish is no longer with the living?”

“No.”

“And _you_ did it? You took another man’s life?”

“He tried to take mine,” Tina said between a wave of dry coughs that scratched her throat. “You need better followers.”

“Perhaps,” he leaned back, comfortable as ever. As if this was fun. “I must say, I didn’t think you had it in you. Takes quite a bit of heartlessness to murder someone in cold blood.”

“I’m sure you would know.” Tina bit back and Grindelwald chuckled.

“This isn’t personal.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” Tina scoffed, forcing herself against Grindelwald’s binds. This time he knew better than to have her loose. “You do enjoy this. You like to act like this is all a clinical experiment; like you’re an emotionally detached observer. I see right through you.”

Grindelwald did not react. “You’re right. I do enjoy _this_ ,” he said, motioning to them with his hands. “But make no mistake, my dear, the fact that it is you and Percy at the end of my wand is a result of fate. I needed a way to destabilize the American wizarding world while inserting my own seed, and to do that I needed Percy to pick a warm hole to fuck. It’s unfortunate he chose yours.”

“That’s disgusting,” Tina whispered, vocalizing the only word swimming in her head. “Is this-is this how you view all human interaction? Cause and effect being twisted to your needs?”

“It’s all that human behavior is. Predictable. Boring. And then you throw a little bit of chaos into it and look who got to share Percy’s bed. You should be thanking me.”

“You think that our relationship was caused by you?”

“Oh, but it was, wasn’t it? It all started with an unusual plan in the middle of a stormy night. Do you remember it?”

Ever since finding Picquery locked up she’d been trying to forget it.

She’d been sitting next to DeSoto the whole time. ‘ _No bigger than my briefcase_ ,’ he had said.

And then ‘Picquery’ showed up, with plans and promises, with talks about a hearing that was never even supposed to happen, and they both ate it all up.

“You do remember,” Grindelwald continued, softly. “You’ve seen his memories. See, all I needed to do was drop your name, over, and over again. Every single day. Our friend was left alone for almost a month and what do you think I made sure was the only thing in his mind?”

_Why do you think he sent you that Patronus?_

“Let’s be honest with ourselves, love,” Grindelwald said, leaning forward as if this were an intimate conversation between friends. “It’s a common fantasy, no? Wanting your older, polished boss to somehow look past your unkempt hair and mustard-filled lips to see the good in you; the real you that the rest of the world doesn’t see? To fall in love and live happily ever after? I can’t blame you for believing it could happen.”

_It did happen_ , Tina wanted to say but the words choked and died on her tongue. She wanted to fight this entire idea, but she believed every other lie Grindelwald had thrown at her face in the last week. Maybe she even let herself believe that it was all real. That it would continue to be after Grindelwald was out of the picture.

“Ah, don’t cry now,” he soothed. Tina turned away, as much as her bindings let her. “You two got to fulfill your little fantasies. Not many people get to do that before they die.”

_Don’t let him take this away from you._

“How would you two have made it work anyway? Even in a perfect world your precious President couldn’t let you two be together. You’d be sneaking into his bed every night like a common whore – is that what you want? To be the woman he hides from the world? Face it, love, this was always doomed to fail.”

“He’ll find a way around it.” Tina said. _He will_ , not he would. Because she would get out of those binds. Because they would be alright. Their story would not end that day.

“Ever the optimist,” Grindelwald mused. “I suppose hope is the last to fade, even in your last breaths.”

“So kill me,” Tina dared. The words shocked none other than Grindelwald, whose curious brows shot up at her fighting words. “It’s why you chased me through the city this morning. Why you sent those men after me in Arizona. Finish it.”

“Hm,” Grindelwald hummed, playing with the stolen wand. “I always found it fascinating to see people’s reactions when death was presented to them. Some men – lesser men, mind you – would fall apart at the seams, begging and pleading for their lives. Willing to trade the world for one more minute. Pathetic. Others almost welcomed it, though I must admit it was after a grueling session of _Legilimency_. Everyone cracks eventually. And then, dear, there’s you and your darling. Fierce and fighting until the end, no?”

“We know what we’re fighting for. That’s the difference.”

“Yes, I’m sure your country thanks you. And, I’m sure you think different, but no, I do not kill for sport. Until a few moments ago, your supposed death did exactly what I needed it to – it finally got Percy moving. If our dear President was here I would certainly consider it. There’s no need for spares, after all.”

Because someone like Grindelwald valued her life based on her utility to him. It was the only measurement, in his eyes.

“Tell me, do you know why I bothered with something as troublesome as Polyjuice potion when impersonating Percy?”

Tina’s words were out of her mouth before she could even consider them. “Because you wanted to feel powerful.”

Grindelwald’s eyes narrowed into beads. She didn’t look away. “Because I wanted to feel how malleable he was. How pliant, how obedient. All little things you pick up when you take in someone’s body chemistry, but completely absent in simple transfiguration. And what I found intrigued me.”

He stood, stepping back towards her but this Grindelwald she knew. He may have been upset earlier, but this was the calm serial killer she saw in Percival’s memories. Somehow the familiarity of it all wasn’t terrifying, because she’d been there before.

Grindelwald suddenly rest both hands on her shoulders. He’d barely touched her, but it was rough and hard, not at all the ministrations of her lover – and he wasn’t even trying for it.

“He’s stubborn as a mule. I felt it in my bones that first night, and he gave me quite the fight. We had many nights like that one, with pain and torture and unwilling exchanges of information. I don’t know how much he remembers and frankly, I don’t care to know.”

Grindelwald’s voice dropped to a whisper. With both hands still pressed into her shoulders, he lowered himself down, burying his nose in her hair and humming in approval, earning a death stare from Tina even if he couldn’t see it. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret, Miss Goldstein. I broke Percy’s hands a second time and I’m sure he’ll tell you it’s because I caught him using magic,” he said, lips pressed against her ear, like a child telling a secret. “I always knew. He thought he was being so _good_ , so secretive but I knew. And I knew he’d continue no matter what I did. I broke them only because I wanted to hear him beg like I knew he could. Because I felt that weakness in him. I knew I could bring him to his knees and I did. That little native curse I put on his hand? Only a fun bit of my experiment.”

“Fuck you,” Tina growled, her fingertips overloaded with magic that was set on tearing this whole place apart. “You sick fuck.”

“Aw, but we’re not done yet. And boy do I have something that will really rustle your jimmies,” Grindelwald said, standing, turning to grin at Tina like he was proud of what he’d done. “I almost didn’t even pick your Percy. I came within, say, a day of leaving America and setting my sights on another country. Do you want to know why?”

Tina blurted out a laugh, even with her eyes fogging as she tried not to picture everything she saw in those memories, raw and real once again. “I don’t. But you’re not going to give me a choice.”

“How quickly you catch on. I always knew you’d be more pliable than Percy,” he said, taking his seat again. “The United States isn’t just teeming with magic. It isn’t just the one country with the highest number of witches and wizards. It also happens to be the one country with the biggest fear and distrust of those different than them; of the no-maj you so valiantly try to protect. As you can imagine, it’s a valuable country for me to have in my grasp.”

“Not all of us think as you do,” Tina fought, thinking back to Shikoba, of her fear of Grindelwald and what he would do to their community. “You’re appealing to a vocal minority.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong. See I spent months traveling this great land, talking to its people. They’re more divided than they’ve ever been. This country is ripe for the taking, all it needs is a little push. All it needs is for its highest-ranking members to do _something_. Except, Percy had no vices; none I could take advantage of. No back-alley drug habits to manipulate, no love of whores or money or fame. The _oh so perfect_ knight in shining armor that you think he is. I thought my plan was over before it even began.

“And then, a little nugget of gold. And _my oh my_ was it a good one,” Grindelwald said, face twisting in pleasure; something Tina would never be able to unsee. “Percival Graves, sneaking out of his office to visit someone in the wand permit office. That’s when it all hit me at once. Little Percy had a crush he couldn’t pursue. Or is it _wouldn’t_ pursue?”

It was hard not to let her heart sink into her gut. If it wasn’t for her, if she’d never been a part of the Auror department then Grindelwald wouldn’t have pursued him. He wouldn’t have locked him up and tortured him with an Unforgivable until he nearly broke apart. Percival would have no weaknesses. There would be nothing to tempt him with; no carrot dangling at the end of stick. Grindelwald would have moved on to someone else, in another department or perhaps in another country altogether.

But that wouldn’t be much better. She’d merely be trading his life for that of another unnamed stranger in the crowd. A coward’s pick.

“I wish you had been there, _Tina_ ,” he said, saying her name the same way Percival did. Disgusting. “ _Tina, Tina, Tina._ Your name did what the world’s most powerful spells couldn’t do; what the strongest potions would never yield. It gave me obedience. And I knew, from the moment I swallowed that potion, that I had my ace in the hole.”

Obedience. Like a dog. Like a fucking dog.

“Yes, dear, that’s right. I had him groveling at my feet, like a dog. _Not her, not her_ ,” he mocked with a low chuckle that had all of Tina’s hairs on ends. “America’s most powerful man. Begging.”

That word; just that little word hit something in Tina’s nerves that she didn’t even know existed.

And the room _exploded_.

Every window shattered, every cabinet and pantry door combusted, sending shards of wood and glass and metal not in every direction. In one _very_ specific direction.

Her binds came apart and she lunged at him amongst the storm of flying death roaring into the night. This sorry excuse of a man - _this monster_ \- took a good man and laid him bare. He took the most human parts of Percival, his will to protect, the love he had for her and all the others and twisted it to bring him to his knees. How _dare_ he, _how fucking dare he_!

It was very fucking personal.

Tina found Grindelwald’s eyes; wiped clean of arrogance and with that she attacked. The table between them split under her command, flying off and crashing against the walls as he ran like the coward he was. Knives, pans, nails – anything that could hurt, anything that could kill, was ripped out of its resting place as Tina’s mind focused only on painting the apartment with his blood.

He shouted something. It was the first time Grindelwald had ever done it but it was all the fuel she needed. She didn’t even say any spells or mimic any fancy wand movements. All she knew was that she wanted him to hurt, and hurt he did. Grindelwald tried for the door; for anything and fell, a pathetic shield being the only thing keeping him alive. Tina rushed forward, unleashing everything she could-

The front door flew open. DeSoto charged in, bringing with him a flurry of ice that pushed Tina back into a stove. She fought for balance, grabbing the rusty metal and foisting it over, not with her bare hands but with the magic surging through.

But DeSoto hadn’t fought that day. His suit was clean of sweat and blood alike and as angry as Tina felt, she couldn’t compete. Not when her body had fallen under the _Cruciatus_ , thrown halfway across the country and beaten to a bloody pulp by people who used to be her fellow Aurors. DeSoto threw her weapons aside and flew across the room, tackling her down to the floor with one hushed stunning spell after the other.

_No_ , she tried to yell but nothing came out. She wanted to tear his throat out, for aiding that maniac, for betraying the trust he’d built with everyone on the team. But she couldn’t move a damn muscle.

All the flying debris fell around them with a crash.

Grindelwald stood over her, cocky and arrogant, as if he hadn’t almost died. She would’ve expected nothing else.

“I told you not to underestimate her,” Grindelwald lectured, taking joy in Tina’s every attempt to move a muscle. “Now go, get Graves, take him to MACUSA. Get the press. You know what to do.”

“And you? We haven’t found the President.”

“Haven’t we?” Grindelwald said, locking eyes with Tina and now she stopped. She’d seen that mad look before and it spilled the fear she’d tried so hard to hide. “I think we have a perfectly good candidate this morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man oh man where do I begin. If you're lost, let me fill you in a bit:
> 
> \- Grindelwald has been impersonating Picquery since the very beginning of the story. Until now none of of them have interacted with the real Picquery.  
> \- They probably had you fooled since the first chapter too, right? That little interaction between DeSoto and Tina in the very first chapter was him trying to insert thoughts of a hurt Graves into Tina's mind, make her more sympathetic to anything that would make him better. Picquery then coming along and offering such a ridiculous plan (in retrospect - really think about what she offered) to "fix" the situation was just a clever follow-up. Plus, Grindelwald still wasn't used to "being" the President and wanted that weekend away to figure things out.  
> \- The call from the Prime Minister was real. Grindelwald knew this would happen at some point in the weekend, thus the Dragots.  
> \- DeSoto wanted to get Graves to grab the portkey so Grindelwald could have one of those little "chats" with him. It didn't go according to plan so Tina grabbed it instead. His plan was poor, and it showed with his hesitation to go to the apartment with Tina, and why he kept trying to get Graves to come.  
> \- They wanted to get the cabinet into MACUSA. With DeSoto and any other of Grindelwald's plants in MACUSA this would be an easy way for them to always be coming and going. That picture that Tina found? Yeah, DeSoto dropped that in and guided their lunch conversation to the topic of the case.  
> \- But they didn't know that Tina was there in their secret meeting the whole time. They knew she would be with Graves, but that part got past both of them.  
> \- DeSoto obliviated the prisoners and inserted the new memories  
> \- Neither of them knew about what Travers did so imagine Grindelwald's surprise when Tina "told" him via paper mouse that Graves had her. When he got a hold of her later and saw what he did with her memory, they decided to play the whole thing to his advantage - thus why he knew they'd likely be trying to "bust" their morning meeting the next day.  
> \- In short, Grindelwald wants to overthrow the people that matter at MACUSA and the most chaotic way possible - for Graves to murder Picquery in full view of everyone. To do that, he needed him to hate her as much as possible, and since he was still pissed about her demoting Tina, he had the perfect way to do it.
> 
> ....But will he do it?
> 
> Feel free to go back and look at some of those interactions between Picquery and Tina/Graves in a new light (or just Picquery - look at her choice of words at the end when she murders Olly). There was indeed something unsettling about her smile after all...


	27. Maybe I'm Amazed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time  
> Maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you  
> Maybe I'm amazed at the the way you pulled me out of time  
> And hung me on a line  
> Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you
> 
> -Maybe I'm Amazed by Paul McCartney and Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the wait was worth it! Originally planned on splitting this into 2 and releasing one part every 2 weeks but then got really into writing both parts at once so here we are!

_‘I thought of you.’_

_‘I’m scared.’_

_‘I don’t want you to die.’_

_‘Please don’t leave!’_

_‘Percival!’_

_‘PERCIVAL!’_

Percival jumped up from the desk with a gasp. His knee slammed up against the heavy wood, shaking the whole thing and sending all the papers flying into the air.

He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. It was so real. He could still feel her perfume, full of sweet fruits and berries, clinging to his coat and neck and rapidly growing beard. She had been right there; squeezing against him, seeking warmth and help and nothing that he could provide. She was scared. He felt it, he knew it. She was scared and she needed him and he wasn’t there-

_Stop that. It’s over with. It was just another fucking nightmare._

Fuck.

He didn’t even remember falling asleep. After DeSoto’s news, he snuck into MACUSA through the same back doors he escaped through and hid in his office like a snake in waiting. Picquery would be in soon and this fucking mission could finally end – not how he wanted it, but how it must.

The idea sent a lone chill through his heart.

‘Phina had been his oldest friend. She wasn’t just a colleague to talk weather or Quidditch – even though she hated the latter and tolerated the former. She was so much more than that. For fuck’s sake, she’d been the last person to stay with him after his parent’s funeral. When she knew he would go home alone that night she took him to her place instead, got him a cot next to her bed and stayed up listening to his bullshit until the sun rose up. He’d admitted to so much that night; more than to any other person dead or alive. How he was scared of failing as an Auror, of becoming a washed up nobody that destroyed the family name. How he hated even caring about the family name at all. ‘Phina stayed up that night and listened to all of it, even when he began crying for the tenth time or when nothing out of his mouth made sense. She stayed.

And this woman, who had seen him at his darkest, who he trusted before he knew what the word truly meant, was supposed to be at the other end of his wand in less than hour.

Fuck.

But it was justice. Her betrayal had taken the lives of so many good men. Of a very good woman. Someone had to stop her before any others suffered as he had and in a way Bob was right, he _was_ needed, at least once more.

Percival looked down at the mess of papers that had flown out of their case file. All useless. They’d dedicated so much and for what? Grindelwald still won in the end. He always did. The man rigged the game in his favor and there was nothing he and Tina could have done. Not those damn interviews with the prisoners, not raiding the Silent Owl, not his memories.

His memories.

Splayed on the floor were pages and pages of Tina’s retelling of the worst days of his life. It was impossible to miss, with her rounded but very much legible handwriting; something beautiful and elegant compared to the trash he put down. Percival knelt to the floor, running his hands over each individual letter and the groove it left on the parchment. A piece of her. And, he’d never read any of it. There was no need, not when it came back to haunt him whenever he closed his eyes.

But now…

Percival took the scattered pages and dared himself to see what his lover had written down.

_Mr. Graves proceeded to endure over seven hours of continuous use of the Cruciatus Curse, something previously thought impossible by all wizarding authorities._

It was almost like she was impressed. He scoffed.

At what? Seven hours of losing his mental acuity, with each minute putting him closer to delving all of MACUSA’s secrets to a madman.

_He bravely_ – Percival had to squint to make sure he read that right – _broke through the incarcerous Mr. Grindelwald had cast and hit him in the cheek._

Yes, before Grindelwald slammed him back against the wall and broke his nose.

_Mr. Grindelwald attempted to use Mr. Graves’ loyalty and protectiveness towards MACUSA and its Aurors to cause mental anguish and further torture by threatening their safety._

Her safety, mostly.

_After twenty-four days of living in a briefcase, with little food, barely any stimuli, and a constant barrage of suffering inflicted by Mr. Grindelwald, Mr. Graves still came back to MACUSA and continues to put the safety and success of the wizarding community above all else. Percival Graves is not only an asset to MACUSA, but a hero to its people._

He stared at that last line longer than he should have. He desperately wanted to hate it. Wanted to correct that naïve idea of a ‘hero’. Heroes didn’t get captured. Heroes didn’t let their loved ones fall to their death.

Percival grabbed the parchment, gripped it with both hands and made to shred it to pieces like the lies it told. He wasn’t a hero.

But he couldn’t. The fragile paper, crumbling in his hands did not rip, not when he could still feel her own words under his fingers. How the hell could she still believe in him? After everything he went through, after how he almost killed Jauncey, after how he jeopardized her mission – she still backed him.

Even after all that, she still loved him.

Percival let the thin paper run through his fingers, let them fall and scatter on the floor once again.

She deserved justice.

\--

Queenie nearly flew out of bed, panting and covered in sweat.

She could still see her sister’s face, pale and frightened, silently begging for help. She wasn’t alone. Standing in front of her, in a dingy kitchen was Grindelwald and he held Tina’s face in her hands like he meant to break it.

Out of pure instinct she looked to her sister’s bed, still made, still empty, and sighed.

This wasn’t the first time she’d been awakened like this. Her mother had a special name for this ability, something beyond Legilimency that allowed her to feel the pain of her loved ones. She had never told Tina but the night their parents passed, she knew. They were far, their suffering minimal, but she could feel their life force fading, their thoughts and voices silencing forever. It was horrific and the closest she ever felt to it was the day Tina had been sentenced to death.

And now she felt it again.

Tina was alive, she was in New York, and she needed help.

Queenie rushed on whatever clothing was closest. She had no clue where to even begin looking, but if she knew anything it was that her search would begin in the heads of others. But first, she needed help, and she knew just the wizard to call on.

\--

Everything was so peaceful, so light. Tina couldn’t remember the last time she was this at ease with the world.

Something told her to walk slower, to smile less and Tina did as she was told. She just wanted to be good and she knew that when she followed her instincts she would feel good too.

So, Tina walked, through abandoned streets with two gentlemen by her side. They were so protective, so caring and she just knew the blonde man was the one currently making her feel good. There was something about him, something so powerful that tied her to him and she just wanted to make him happy.

_“That’s a good girl. Go through the door on the left and don’t stop, hm?”_

They were walking towards a big building that stirred something within her.

_She was running in for the first time, gripping her job application so hard it should have ripped. It was a plain Monday morning and while she was in awe of the gigantic atrium, she knew the only place to go to was the office of the Director of Magical Security._

The Woolworth building. Tina blinked, suddenly feeling the throbbing pain that started at her nose and worked its way down. She saw Grindelwald, in that tiny kitchen, kicking her when she refused to obey, refused to fall to _Imperio_ -

_“Shhhhh, now, listen to me, doll. Relax, keep walking. It will feel so good, so good. You want to be good, don’t you?”_

_Yes_ , Tina answered as those old memories faded into nothing but plain euphoria. She shivered. It felt good.

“Morning, Madam President,” the man at the entrance greeted. He seemed so familiar, with that slicked black hair. “Bit early this morning?”

“Good morning, Gino,” Tina responded. The words weren’t her own; they were merely coming through her mouth. “I’ve called a meeting at the Pentagram room. Make sure to direct all traffic there.”

Gino said something in the affirmative but the men still by her side kept them walking. No one addressed them and all Tina could think of was how awfully rude that was.

“Madam? I need to run the check on you – as per procedures-”

“Does it look like I have the time, boy?” The vile words shot out of her mouth and she felt angry. She wanted to reach for her wand, to teach him a lesson. What an idiot.

His face went pale at once and he lowered his wand. As he should.

_“Almost there, doll. You’re doing wonderful.”_

They kept walking and the anger dissipated into nothing. It was fine. Tina wanted to beam at his kind words but knew it wasn’t what he wanted, so she kept her lips sealed tight and her eyes cold, just as instructed. Anything to feel peace and beauty and calm, so calm. The other man split from her side, heading to the lifts but it felt right. He was supposed to go there, and she did not turn.

When they reached the Pentagram room, it was already beginning to fill up. Apparently the gentleman’s hurried owls had gotten to everyone because they seemed so eager to see her. Imagine that, a room of so many colorfully dressed wizards and witches all gathered there for her, to watch her. She didn’t know why that was important or why she cared, but she did. She wanted them all to see her.

She took a seat by the big throne-looking chair in the end and for some reason immediately looked to her right. The seat was empty, but it shouldn’t be. Someone should be there. Someone…

The lights flickered quickly, on and off but she wasn’t scared. Some men by the entrance carrying heavy cameras turned on their machines, flashing bright lights at nothing as the room suddenly darkened. People seemed alert and frightened but there was nothing to fear. Everything was alright.

And then, like a flash of lightning he appeared before her. Tina’s eyes met this man’s and it pulled the euphoria out of her heart and replaced it with cold, with pain.

_Percival._

_He clasped their hands together, pushing them over Tina’s head as they both cried out in their release. They were spent, in mind and body, yet Percival didn’t leave. She never wanted him to. He whispered something, nearly inaudible into her ear before smiling down at her and they both laughed._

“Percival, it’s-”

_“Shhh, be good. Don’t say a word. Let him do what he wants. You want this, remember? You want this.”_

The pain faded but the memory; it wouldn’t go away. She wanted to feel good and be good, she had to, she-

_“I should go,” Percival muttered, still brushing invisible hairs off her cheek. “It’s not right for me to impose.”_

_“Who’s imposing?” Tina said quickly, pushing up so both her hands were planted on his chest like a lioness over her kill. “It’s late, it’s cold. It’s dangerous out there. My sister doesn’t mind. Please.”_

_“Hm,” Percival chuckled, pulling one of her hands to his lips. “You just don’t want to lose your pillow.”_

She wanted to reach out to him, to tell him it was really her but the words fell apart in her throat as her mind tugged between two different places.

The wave of happiness hit her again and she knew she should grab her wand. It would feel so good if she lifted her wand, if she yelled out a curse at the man coming to her. A _Crucio_ would feel so good. She wanted to hit him, wanted to make him hurt.

_No_ , her conscious mind erupted. _Stop it, Tina, stop it. STOP IT._

_“Good girl, hit him. He’s not expecting it, so hit him now. Hit him. HIT HIM.”_

She had snapped her wand out. It was shaking with her hand but it was pointed at him. She knew the curse, she wanted to be good, she had to hit him, she had-

The door to the Pentagram room flew open and a slew of wizards and witches rushed in. The mysterious man in front of her turned, his face reddening in anger as he raised a curtain of light between all of the people sitting in the bleachers and him and his attackers. A shield, most likely, but-

He didn’t want anyone to get hurt.

A blonde witch stepped up, wand trained at the man and Tina knew her. This woman with her curls, her beautiful wand-

Queenie!

Tina snapped awake in time to see her cast something at Percival, something he quickly deflected onto the curtain of light. It thrummed at the hit but didn’t falter, keeping the battle solely between him and the mess of Aurors rushing in.

_“Tina. TINA. Hit him. HIT HIM!”_

He had his back turned. She could kill him. She should kill him. It would feel good, it would-

_NO!_

She dropped the wand and the persistent voice in her ear fell silent.

Percival suddenly turned and lunged forward, tackling her down but they weren’t falling. Not in that room. They were falling and falling, twisting into the air. Were they flying? The world was a mess of blurs and Tina wasn’t sure what was up or down anymore, only that she was being carried away and away-

They landed in a dark room but the rotten stench gave it away. The execution room. Tina was squirming in her past all over again but she was free.

“Percival, please-”

“Silence,” he snarled, his magic shutting her lips tight. “I don’t want to hear it. Not from you, not from anyone.”

With another quick jab of his wand Tina lost control of her arms and legs too. The only thing she could move were her eyes, always transfixed on her lover. If he’d just read her mind, if he’d just let her speak for one damn minute-

“I should have known,” Percival started, looking at her with such hatred that if he wanted could set her aflame. “When you told me you wanted to be President, I supported you. I thought you wanted what I did – to see our world safe and balanced. But it was all bullshit. All of it. You’ve fed me lies since were kids, ‘Phina.”

He grabbed the fine clothes Grindelwald transfigured, right below her neck and bundled it in his hands. It had him stepping into the light and she saw nothing but pain. The suffering, the perceived loss in his eyes sunk his entire face and aged him another decade. His hair was all over the place, face unshaven and dotted with black and white hairs. This was Percival, with the entire weight of his loss on his shoulders. A man who had lost everything and had nothing left to give.

“Even after what happened with-with Tina,” he said, pausing at her name with a visible cringe. “I would have stopped at nothing to protect you. Nothing. I would have taken a fucking bullet for you. I always swore to protect you and now look at what you’re making me do.”

Percival lifted her off the ground, with that arm alone but whatever he did released her muscles. Now Tina was clinging to his arms, to him, as he walked and she knew exactly where he was going.

_Please_ , Tina begged in her mind. _Percival, please, stop. Please!_

He stopped his march and she didn’t need to look down to see what was below. It was happening. No, no! She escaped with Newt, she was not supposed to ever go back there, not by him, not again.

_It’s not him. It’s NOT him._

“You took away my Aurors, ‘Phina. You took them, in body and spirit. The closest fucking thing I ever had to a family and you killed them. How many more? How many, ‘Phina?”

He still wasn’t letting her answer but his grip was slackening and she couldn’t hold on and-

“You know how it is, ‘Phina. You know,” Percival said, a fleeting touch of humanity back in his eyes. “I dedicated every ounce of my being into protecting us. Our people, our society, our way of life. Everything. It’s all I’ve done, day and night and _Gods_ , it never fucking ends. I’ve been sleeping with one eye open for longer than you’ve been President.”

Tina gripped his arm, fighting to stay with him, to keep him stable but the man was a rock. Her grabbing for dear life did nothing to even make him flinch.

“But not with her,” he said, voice cracking. “Decades spent trying to make everyone else feel safe, and I finally found someone I can close my own eyes around.”

He found her eyes again and it was heartbreaking to see what was in there. No barriers, no games, no front – just the raw man that no one had ever gotten to see before; that was rumored to not exist. But it would not last. The pain quickly gave way to anger as his fists tightened around her dress, pushing her further away from the ledge.

“And you took her,” Percival whispered, through tears, through hurt. “You took her from me, ‘Phina. Why the fuck did you do that?”

Tina forced herself to scream and yell in protest, to tell him it was Grindelwald’s doing but not a single sound escaped her throat; her mouth didn’t even open.

“When I heard about the hearing – that fucking bullshit you wanted to put me through – I thought he’d taken everything from me. Everything. But he didn’t. He never took away the most important thing.” Percival struggled to say, the words slurring towards the end and even Tina couldn’t stop her own tears from forcing their way through. No spell could help keep her own breaking heart intact.

Percival took another step forward, until her feet were nowhere near the ground, until all that kept her alive were the tense fingers clutching at her dress.

“But you did,” Percival continued. “Out of all people, out of everyone I would’ve given my life for, it was you. It was always you.”

He was faltering-her dress was beginning to rip and she was going to fall. It didn’t kill her with Newt and now it would swallow her whole.

“You’re-you’re,” Tina stuttered, fighting through Percival’s spell. He saw her try and yet didn’t try to stop it. Almost as if… almost as if he didn’t want to do this. He wanted any excuse not to do this. “ _You’re not him_.”

He wasn’t. No matter what demons he fought, no matter how he held her life in his hands, he could never have an ounce of Grindelwald’s cruelty. She tried to speak again, to tell him it was all a ruse but found her tongue tied once more. She may die, at that moment, and she never even had the chance to tell him how much she loved him. Not because it did anything for her, but because he should know. He should know that despite everything Grindelwald did, that he _was_ loved.

But nothing came out. Nothing but a weak cry that sent another tear cascading down her cheek.

Percival tightened his grip. He sucked in his breath, and he pulled her until she could feel tile under her feet.

“Seraphina Picquery,” he started, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing out the remaining tears he didn’t want to shed. “You are hereby under arrest for treason of the highest order. You-you have a right to a trial.”

He didn’t kill her.

_He didn’t kill her._

The spell that had been keeping her muted suddenly evaporated away and-oh! She could still move. Tina immediately dragged her hand across her face, casting a _Revelio_ that had Percival staring as if he’d seen a ghost.

“What-what the fuck is this?” Percival growled, falling back as Grindelwald’s transfiguration began to fall apart.

“Percival! It’s-”

“ _Who the fuck are you?_ ”

His wand shook in his hand, but Tina knew the force of the spell ready to be unleashed would throw her into the pool she had just barely avoided. Tina did not step forward.

“It’s me-it’s Tina. It’s me.”

“No,” he growled again. “I saw her die. Take off that fucking mask or I’ll rip it off for you.”

“I escaped,” Tina pleaded, having nowhere to go back to. “I apparated out of there, love, and Grindelwald captured me and put me in this damn mask – he wanted you to kill the President; wanted you to kill _me_.”

Percival continued to crawl back, until his back was against the opposing wall, all the while whispering a hushed ‘ _No_ ’ one right after the other.

“When I took you to the hospital that night, they didn’t let me see you,” Tina said, slowly, approaching him like she would a wounded animal. “But I sent you a paper rat the next day. I told you-”

“-To-to get some sleep,” Percival completed, lowering his wand a little but not completely. “And not eat the hospital food.”

“That’s right,” Tina smiled, close enough to nearly touch him. “It’s me, love. It’s me.”

He didn’t move. Neither of them did.

Once more, Tina had to wait for him to make a move and with his mind whirring underneath bunched up brows, she could only imagine the horrors he imagined.

And then, his wand fell, clinking on the ground in defeat.

“You’re hurt,” he said, turning his focus to the dried blood all over her stomach. “I need to take you in. This is dangerous, you could have internal bleeding and-”

She stared in awe at this man with sunken eyes and purple bruises scattered around his head who still, after everything he’d been through, prioritized her health over his own.

“It’s fine, it’s healed-”

“Stomach wounds are serious, and-fuck, Tina, your nose-”

“ _Percival_ ,” Tina interrupted again, falling to her knees and taking his jaw in both hands, forcing his eyes to hers. “I’m alright. I’m alright.”

This time, Tina didn’t need to hesitate. She fell into his arms without a single doubt about what was in his heart, about whether the relief warming her own chest was real or some creation of Grindelwald’s. All the answers she could ever need were right there, squeezing her as if she’d poof into the air again if he didn’t keep her there. She tried to tell him just how much she had worried, how much she loved him but all that came out were a few strangled sobs of relief that probably said more than any words could.

Mercy Lewis, she was crying. This was the most important mission of her life and she was crying like a rookie.

“I could’ve killed you.” He said, every word shaking with guilt and she realized she wasn’t the only ‘rookie’ in the room.

“But you didn’t,” Tina reminded him, pressing into clothes soaked with dried blood, sweat and tears. “I knew you wouldn’t. I always knew.”

Percival just melted into her and she welcomed it. She missed him far more than he would ever know. He burrowed his wetting eyes into the curve of her neck where she knew he could make out whatever was left of her perfume – if anything. It felt reassuring. It felt like home. Tina couldn’t believe how much it reminded her of the day she pulled him out of that briefcase. That day – at that moment – she thought that it was all over. Percival had been found in time; he was skinny and hurt but not beyond salvation. The Healers would tend to him and in a few days it would all be back to normal. It was over.

How wrong she’d been then. They all stupidly believed that mending a few bones and removing the stress of spell damage would be enough. Some time and space would heal the rest. It didn’t, and the evidence had been in her arms then and was back in her arms now. Even after they caught Grindelwald, the nightmares wouldn’t be gone. They likely never would. Nor would the panic attacks and the need for solitude. It couldn’t be magically healed, but she could be there for him when they hit.

Percival may have been a shield for them, but she would be a shield for him.

Something crashed just outside the room. Big and heavy – possibly a pillar. Percival was the first to pull away and he quickly stood to put himself between Tina and the door.

Another echoing boom shook the ceiling enough to drench them both in dust and debris. It was closer.

The door flew open, slamming against the wall as Queenie Goldstein marched in ready to blow someone to pieces. She caught Percival’s eyes first and unleashed a vicious _Stupefy_ that Percival barely parried away.

“Goldstein!” He yelped, wand up but not hitting her back. “What the hell?”

Queenie readied herself, in the same Auror stance that Tina trained into her head the moment she became an Auror and everything clicked together. Queenie thought Percival was still set on wrecking the place.

Tina pushed Percival aside, catching Queenie’s eye just as a blue light began to form at the tip of her wand.

“Tina!” Queenie smiled, running and pushing past Percival as she nearly tackled Tina to the floor like the days they were kids. “I knew you were alive, I knew it.”

It was so overdue. Queenie had been at the hospital, losing her curls over Tina’s health. She’d made sandwiches for them, had given Tina all of her support at the Silent Owl, and again for The Big Over Easy. It was so easy to take Queenie’s steady hand for granted because her gestures were never grand, and they weren’t meant to be. Sometimes the most powerful support was subtle.

“You’re never going to believe it, sis,” Tina muttered, feeling more tears prick at her eyes. “I was back in Arizona, and I flew back here on Frank. Oh you would’ve loved it.”

“I’m just happy you’re back, and you’re alright,” Queenie said, stepping back, giving her sister the once-over to make sure she wasn’t really dying right in front of her. “But we need to go. They’ve got Grindelwald cornered – the President sent me to find you two and to give you your wand back. She also thanks you for the coat.”

“Who’s Frank? What wand? And… your coat?”

Percival looked at the two of them, thoroughly confused.

“It’s a long story, love,” Tina started, looking towards the doorway leading only to darkness. “I’ll fill you in while Queenie leads the way. Sis?”

Queenie was the first out the door, wand raised and ready for battle. If her sister wanted she would have made a fine Auror. “Come on you two. Let’s take this monster down once and for all.”

\--

She was alive.

Against all odds, against every inch of his intuition that told him it was impossible. She was alive, and talking and marching forward with conviction as if nothing had happened. It was unbelievable; the whole story if told by anyone else would’ve earned them a hearty laugh and an award for best work of fiction by a fibbing Auror. No one could survive an apparition attempt at that distance, in a panic, without splinching an arm right off. No one would survive walking through the middle of the dessert at night in the dead of winter; not without becoming food.

And yet… there she stood, flesh and bone, but not completely unharmed. Her nose had been broken at least twice and even though she tried not to show it, the debilitating effects of a slew of particularly angry hits from the _Cruciatus Curse_ had her occasionally cringing in pain as she spoke. He knew the signs too well, but said nothing. Because after all this she flew a fucking Thunderbird named Frank – the poor beast named by an idiot, surely – fought a battle at his home and tackled Grindelwald to the ground while the President escaped.

Percival almost felt foolish for ever worrying about her.

“…but how did you find them?” Tina asked her sister as they made their way down lower and lower, to the cold halls where the Vanishing Cabinet was being kept.

“Mr. Ogden? I went searching for DeSoto originally, when I found Madam President. I saw her stumbling down the street, ragged and cold when I noticed she had your coat – the one I gave you for your birthday.”

Percival didn’t want to picture it. He’d been so angry with her in the past week. She came to visit him in the hospital on his first day, full of apologies for never having noticed the difference but he didn’t want to hear any of it. He was always her closest advisor, he argued. She should have known, and she failed him. He could never bear to say those words but he didn’t need to, not with the cold shoulder he gave her and everyone else on the team.

All while Grindelwald took her place under his nose. He was her closest advisor and he didn’t notice.

She created a hearing to put his job on the line for fuck’s sake! And he didn’t notice!

“I told her about Mr. Ogden being in town and she knew just where he’d be; some bar that he and Mr. Graves loved to frequent, and we went there. That’s when she told me about DeSoto, about Grindelwald taking you and what he would probably do so we set up a plan.”

“That’s amazing,” Tina said, vocalizing exactly what was on Percival’s mind about this whole situation. “But what about DeSoto? He wanted to free the prisoners-”

“Exactly,” Queenie smiled. “We waited for him by the cells. Took four Aurors to bring him down and he managed to knock out one of them, but the healers said he’d be alright. That’s when we split up – I took some of the team to the Pentagram room and the President and Mr. Ogden went to block Grindelwald from getting out.”

Unbelievable. If Tina hadn’t freed ‘Phina, if she hadn’t left the door open while Grindelwald blabbered on about his plans as he was wont to do, then they would have lost a slew of enemies to the wind.

All while he moped around his house. Percival never felt more useless.

They reached the final set of stairs leading down to the maze and he could already hear the fight raging on just beyond. If they were fighting it meant Grindelwald hadn’t escaped; it meant they still had a chance.

Tina ran forward first but as they reached the bottom, something just felt off. It was hard to place, but the air itself had been sucked out of his lungs, pressing him further and further down. The maze was supposed to detract any sneaky onlookers but he never designed this.

When he realized what this was, Percival pulled both sisters back behind him as fast as his arms would let him.

“ _Protego Maxima_!”

The blue shield erupted from his wand, swallowing the three of them just in time for a humongous snake of earth and fire to erupt from the ground. It roared, the sound shaking the walls and the ceiling hard enough for it to crack and fall all around them.

It had Grindelwald’s eyes. Grindelwald was controlling the beast and he meant to cause as much damage as he could with it. It burst forth, slamming right into Percival’s shield with a deafening bang but the shield held against the fire, held against the falling rocks. It had to. He had two of the most important people in his life behind him.

The beast raged right past them, taking with it every bit of infrastructure at MACUSA, but it didn’t stop.

Because Grindelwald wasn’t trying to fight them. He was trying to leave.

“Fuck.” Percival growled under his breath before turning his attention back to the halls where the Cabinet and Bob and ‘Phina surely lay. He wanted to help them, but Grindelwald was escaping. What the hell-

“I’ll get them help.” Queenie said suddenly, splitting from his shield and running under falling dust. Tina tried calling out to her sister and he understood but he needed her.

“Tina,” he said, softly, taking her hand. “We can’t let him escape. We can’t.”

She glanced back to where her sister had disappeared to, then to the doorway Grindelwald had just ripped through and he knew what she was thinking. She’d just gotten reunited with her sister, with her only living relative and she was supposed to let her go into a crumbling area without formal training, without help. Under any normal circumstances Percival would never allow a non-Auror to do this but he had no choice. They had no choice.

Tina finally squeezed his hand. She understood too.

“He can’t sustain that form,” Percival said quickly as they retraced their steps. “It’s exhausting, and he knows it.”

“But what was that? How did he do that?”

Percival knew the answer too well. “It’s a manifestation of all of your magic. When you’re desperate – truly desperate – you can wield all of your power at once and unleash it however you’d like. I believe you saw me do something stupidly similar at The Silent Owl.”

What a stupid idea that was. He unleashed a tornado of death at Grindelwald’s supporters, nearly killing himself in the process. It was foolish, it was naïve, and Tina almost suffered because of it. There was a reason he never taught it to his Aurors.

They ran up the steps as fast as their feet could carry. Every concrete slab, sewn in with runes older than Percival’s family, had cracked and stood a chance of falling apart with the slightest touch. If Grindelwald wanted, he could bring the entire building down. Not just MACUSA, but all of The Woolworth Building. Thousands of people – no-maj and wizard alike would perish in a minute all because of a madman they couldn’t contain.

The urgency was not lost on Tina, who gasped when she reached the MACUSA atrium again.

“ _Stupefy_!” She called out in time for Percival to see a very human Grindelwald rushing through the crowd, slamming people out of his way and into Tina’s spells.

He was about to run out of the building and Percival could not let that happen. He took a hold of the marbles walls, as tight as he could and ripped them from the foundation, slamming them down in front of the doors.

But Grindelwald was undeterred. He didn’t even look back at Percival as he tore a hole through the marble with a single shot of fire.

Fuck. The man had just spent most of his magic on that beast that nearly swallowed them whole and he could still tear through rock as if it were paper. Percival always knew that he was powerful, that his Wanted poster was the most desired for a reason but it still never ceased to amaze.

“He can’t apparate,” Tina reminded him as they ran through the hole he created and into the New York morning. “Not while we’re in crisis.”

“Unless he gets outside of city lines,” Percival growled, running outside and into the chaos Grindelwald had created. For a man in hiding, he sure left a neat path of smoke and crushed cars in his wake. “He’s going east. But, why-”

“The pier,” Tina said quickly, now running past him. “If he gets past the docks, he’s free – it’s the fastest way. All he needs to do is jump on a boat – any boat – and we’ll never catch him.”

_The pier_ , Percival repeated. Brilliant.

Tina ran with a fierceness to her that he’d rarely seen in the field. Her brows had furrowed and with each kick off the pavement he saw her anger, _her fight_ , shine through her eyes and he pitied any idiot who stood in front of her wand. He should have never had any doubt that if anyone could survive and escape that inferno it would be her. She didn’t need him; never did. But she _wanted_ him, despite his nightmares, despite his name.

Fuck. This was not the right time to be admiring her, but he couldn’t help it. Just an hour ago he really believed her dead.

Grindelwald was nearly a block away, pushing cars out of the intersection and onto oncoming traffic. People screamed and cried for help, holding loved ones who may or may not still be alive but he couldn’t stop to help. Percival could fucking count the number of violations the man was committing per minute, enough to bring the death sentence for him and every member of his family for the next five generations. He needed to be stopped.

“Tina,” he called out, hating the number of laws he too would be breaking with this. “I need you to push me.”

“Here? With all the no-maj?”

“We’re already going to have to Obliviate everyone,” Percival reasoned. “We might as well.”

It was true, at least partially. Tina readied her wand as Percival gripped his own. This was one of the moves he always forced the junior Aurors to practice as an alternative to Apparation, and as a way to get them to let go of their fear of high speeds.

Percival had never truly let go of his.

He kept his eyes trained on Grindelwald’s messy mop in the distance as he pulled a manhole cover off the ground and jumped on it as it still banged against concrete. He didn’t even have to give Tina the command. She took the cover with her magic, gained control of it and snapped it forward, sending Percival sliding off faster than they could run. He slid down the street, the concrete below scraping against the metal as he dodged traffic and pedestrians alike at a speed no car should reach. It was fast, it was wobbly, and it was worse than the Knight Bus but he couldn't falter. Not now.

_“Expelliarmus!”_

Grindelwald didn’t see him or even know that Percival was about to ram into him but the man was smart. He heard the incantation, hot and angry, and knew immediately to stop and charge _them_. He knew he couldn’t run, that if he kept on that path he’d lose.

Percival was ready for it.

His spell hit the ground right where Grindelwald would have been, blowing all the concrete into the air and shrouding them all in dust. He landed into the darkness with a _Molliare_ already on his lips and erected his shield just in time for Grindelwald’s burst of lightning to crash against it. It nearly shoved him back but Percival held strong to that spot because he needed to. Falling was not an option; leaving the others to pick up after him was not the way of Percival Graves.

There were people shouting for the police, for God, for anyone who would help them.

He may have been the shield of MACUSA, but on that day he was the shield of the world.

“Bad leg, boy?” Grindelwald suddenly taunted, lifting every squealing car with his hands alone.

It shouldn’t have been possible. Percival dug his heels into the ground, ready for the battle that would destroy the entire damn city block and require every Obliviator on duty to work until the break of dawn when-

Another black car flew right over Percival’s head and into a very surprised Grindelwald. Percival never thought he’d see the smugness wiped so clean off the blonde man’s face as he ducked out of the way and below a trolley, barely avoiding the two tons of steel barreling through the street.

“Son of a bitch,” Tina growled from behind him, pissed as all hell. Gods, he never wanted her to look at him the way she looked at the smoldering car. “That should have killed him.”

She raised her hand – her _left_ hand – _and pushed the trolley aside_. That thing weighed as much as three cars and she was pushing it like it was _nothing_.

And, there was nothing there too. The manhole cover had sunk in, likely under a _Confringo_ if the burnt edges were anything to go by. Tina was already rolling her sleeves, getting ready to jump in like the dedicated Auror he knew but she would barely be able to get in. The hole he made was too tight, it was-

“Stop,” Percival said, quickly scanning the emptying street. The dust was beginning to settle down and he could finally see more than a few feet in front of his own nose. “He didn’t go through there. He wants us to think he did.”

“But if he needs a distraction it must mean – oh.”

Tina’s eyes followed the same little pools of red leading out and around the block that he caught. Turns out her “little” car didn’t miss after all and the realization brought new life into her eyes.

“Good shot, love.” Percival beamed, earning him a quick peck on the cheek before their chase continued, running after the panicked screaming in the distance. It was a small gesture, but it lifted him up and gave him just energy to keep going.

They were almost near the docks and Grindelwald was just ahead, limping, cautiously looking behind him. Percival could see the street beginning to narrow ahead, just before the skyline filled with hulking masses of transport ships beginning to arrive as scheduled. If Grindelwald managed to get on any of those then it was over – they’d never catch him again. But that wasn’t what had Percival’s stomach turning into itself – it was the idea that it would never be over. That every shadow in the middle of night could be him, returning to finish the job. He would never be able to sleep again.

That would not do.

Tina had gotten ahead of him, her feet hitting wood instead of concrete, and began parrying Grindelwald’s spells with ease. At that point, they were all exhausted. Whoever won this battle in the end wouldn’t be the most powerful but merely the one with the most endurance and now, watching Tina pound the pavement ahead and running close enough to Grindelwald to pull him down, he knew who it would be.

Until Grindelwald snared her leg with a quick _Incarcerous_ that sent her stumbling and nearly into the water, but it was not enough to stop Tina. She snapped the rope away and continued to lunge at Grindelwald, looking at his wand for any hint of the spells to come.

She was looking in the wrong place.

Grindelwald swung his left hand, now glowing white with electricity and shot it faster than Tina could dodge or pull up a shield. Percival stood, powerless to stop the rage of lightning from smashing into her arm.

The scream she released was horrifying.

Tina fell to the ground, grasping herself and Grindelwald grinned.

He was hurting her, in front of him, and _smiling_ about it.

Percival just ran. His leg was beginning to hurt again but he ran. Grindelwald took one look at him and turned, running to the docks but Percival didn’t let up, not even for a second. He ran until he passed Tina, who shouted at him to keep going, that she was fine an even though he didn’t believe it, and kept going.

Grindelwald pushed the burly sailors in his way into the water without mercy and jumped off the wooden dock, onto the loading ramp of a ship when he caught Percival’s eyes behind him, hot and angry with rage.

“Still with me? Why don’t we go back to where it all began, dear Percy?”

Percival didn’t have time to process what he meant, only to grab onto Grindelwald’s coat as his apparition took a hold of them both and swept Percival off somewhere else entirely.

\--

He was going-going and going until the world spun on its axis but he held on tight to Grindelwald. He would not splinch. He was with him, he was a part of him. _He would not splinch_.

The spinning suddenly stopped, throwing him onto the snow-covered ground like a sack of dirty laundry.

Grindelwald wasn’t there.

He was surrounded by dead trees, all wearing fresh snow like leaves as their branches reached, impossibly high, into the bright morning sky.

Yet not a single bird sang.

Percival blinked once, twice. That was his house, in the distance. Grindelwald had brought him just outside his house, and-

_He broke his wand._

Percival’s chest tightened at seeing a few slivers of black poking through the snow, facing all sorts of ways that a healthy wand should not. It was the one constant in his life, the one thing that never left, never betrayed him, that always brought a warm, heavy weight into his heart when he gripped the handle before battle.

And now it too was taken from him.

“This is where it all started, boy. Do you remember it?”

Grindelwald’s sing-song voice danced among the trees, from all sides. Percival stood, turning on his heel, letting the wisps of a _Avada Kedavra_ into his fingertips. He could not miss. Not this time.

“You were so _brave_ that night; so fierce. I can still hear your spells, cutting through the air like hot knives,” he sang, the last few words hanging right over his shoulder. Percival twisted immediately, looking for any inconsistency in the trees and bushes, any sign of a chameleon hiding in plain sight but _nothing._ “A duel for the history books! I must admit, I did think I would lose there towards the end.”

“You _have_ lost,” Percival shouted. He kept his eyes trained on every shadow and leaf that fluttered in the wind. Grindelwald would slip up; they all did. “You spent more than a month on this brilliant plan of yours. A month trying to break me and you _failed_. You’re a joke-”

Percival didn’t hear it as much as felt it. A hot, venomous air at the back of his neck that just didn’t belong. He knew, instinctively that he couldn’t block it and so he threw himself into the bushes just in time to see the tree beside him split in half with a bang that shook the snow from the dead branches and onto him.

“Do you think it’s over?” Grindelwald roared, throwing another curse that barely missed his head. “Do you think you’ll ever sleep again without seeing me? Oh it’s far from over, Percival. Your troubles have just begun.”

He should run. Something deep within him; some instinct to live told him that he should just run as fast as his feet could carry and fight another day. Grindelwald’s Disillusionment Charm rivaled Tina’s in its perfection. He didn’t have a wand. He was tired. He wasn’t ready. He _should_ run.

Percival shook off the snow from his shoulder. He looked down at his misshapen reflection in the ice and grit his teeth.

_No._

A tiny part of him wanted to say that Graves men didn’t run, and that was true. Gondulphus swore it, his father beat it into him. But this wasn’t about his damn family or about what he was supposed to do. This was about him and a German maniac that sought to ruin his life in the span of a month. That sought to take Tina from him.

He would not fucking run.

Percival fell to the ground and dug his hands into the snow-soaked earth. For once, he let himself see the prison Grindelwald slammed him in; felt the oppressive heat of its walls and the horror it brought. He felt Grindelwald’s hands on him, hurting him, taking and taking until he could barely even remember his own fucking name and Percival grabbed onto that anger and wielded it.

The ground rumbled, and with each little memory it shook harder and harder until every tree threw the snow off its branches.

Until he could see, quite clearly, a shiny gleam of snow piled onto nothing in the distance.

Percival growled through the inevitable pain that would shock through his hands and _lunged_.

He didn’t know how many curses he shot at Grindelwald but he knew a weak shield when he saw one. Still Disillusioned, Grindelwald tried to run but the remnants of snow gave him away and Percival did not stop. He _would_ not stop.

The slow, painful throb was beginning but Percival welcomed it. The pain would come, it would get worse, but he would wield it this time.

Grindelwald was reaching the end of the forest but instead of running out, he stopped, slamming his hand onto the closest tree. The earth shook again, this time angry and violent; something beyond what Percival did. This wasn’t magic backed by mere anger and vengeance. It was something worse – desperation. Everything rumbled, and it threw him into one of the ancient trees which in turn tried to _hit_ him. All of its branches, big and small, launched towards Percival the same way a drunk man might throw a punch.

This was supposed to be a distraction, but Percival was no gum-shoe rookie. He slashed at the tree, not staying to watch his magic cut across the oak like acid and tear something so ancient in half. And he _ran_. Percival leapt over rising roots and ducked under slashing branches because only one thing mattered; only one person mattered, and he was right in front of him, running into the clearing like the fucking coward he was.

“Grindelwald!” Percival yelled. “Fight me! Fight me you fucking coward!”

Percival watched the running figure in front of him, concentrated his magic where he needed it most and unleashed a _Stupefy_ that slammed right into Grindelwald’s back. Not his shield, not his cronies, but _him_ and it was invigorating to watch him cry out and lose his footing, nearly falling into certain death. He deserved this. He deserved to have his blood splattered onto the snow for Percival to follow and he deserved everything Percival would do once he had him chained and under his command.

“ _Crucio!_ ” Percival snarled, the words strange coming from his lips but he meant every letter. The curse, vile and cold in his hand burst through and smashed into Grindelwald and made him visible.

The inhuman noise he made was nothing short of rejuvenating.

Percival could see the fear in his eyes as he stole a look over his shoulder. It was over. Percival growled through the pain filling his hands and let himself see the darkness and the light around him and wield them for what they were. He thought of nights spent in darkness, broken and cold, and nights with cocoa in front of the fireplace and the centering of all of that was in his fingertips until they burned red with magic.

With a thunderous roar, Percival slapped both hands together and released a wave of pure energy that ripped the trees from their roots and slammed into Grindelwald, throwing him down like a ragdoll. It was the most basic magical energy; the last resort that most Aurors didn’t know existed and for good reason.

Because under normal circumstances it hurt. And now, with the curse on his hands?

Percival fell to his knees. His hands were throbbing, now bright red from the fucking curse and it _hurt_.

Grindelwald was starting to get up! He needed to get him, to-

Percival pushed off the ground when he heard it – a quick, clean snap from below.

_No! Please, Merlin, no-_

He collapsed onto the snow, just out of the forest and in view of his house.

The pain surged from everywhere; from his hands, down his arms and to his feet and he didn’t just scream but he screamed for _her_.

The only answer to his pain came in the form of slow, lumbering steps in the snow that stopped right in front of him. Percival wanted to wield that rage again but as he searched Grindelwald’s calm demeanor he found nothing but defeat.

“My oh my, a broken leg. I believe they put down horses for those,” Grindelwald mused, wiping the steady trail of blood pouring down his cheek from somewhere in his messy mop of white-blonde hair. “That’s all you are, Percival. An old, broken horse alive only from milking everyone’s pity.”

Percival spat at his feet, more blood than saliva as he felt Jauncey’s curse rip through his body for another bone to break.

Grindelwald grabbed him by the neck, his hands freezing and wet with melting snow and he flipped Percival onto his back before sitting right on his stomach and choking any sound Percival could make.

“You thought you could’ve beaten me,” Grindelwald said, grabbing Percival’s arms, _Percival’s hands_ and he fought against it, thrashing beneath Grindelwald while muttering a stunted ‘ _no’_ one right after the other. “I want you to know something, Percival. Something you deserve to know.”

He didn’t care, he didn’t want-

Grindelwald slammed Percival’s left hand onto the ground and grabbed the nearest rock, bringing it down until Percival screamed again, as he had so many times in that case. He tried to call for help, for anything but the only thing that came out were pained cries as Grindelwald lifted the bloody rock.

“The first time we fought, was in these woods in the middle of the night,” he panted, batting away Percival’s fighting hand until it too was pinned to the ground. _Not like this_ , Percival begged in his mind. He would not let those words out even if he could. “It was quite the spectacle. We practically filled the night sky with light.”

He brought down the rock against his other hand, again, and again.

It was too much. He couldn’t-there was nothing. It was over.

Grindelwald was still talking, the words slurring in his ears as every bit of him ached. And then, he caught the one thing that made his heart drop – “…and you won, Percival. You had me facedown, right over there, by that fallen tree. You had me. You just weren’t expecting your own Aurors to come and turn their wands against you. I almost wish I left you with that memory, but, for obvious reasons I could not. Alas, here we are.”

Grindelwald finally stood but there was no relief, not when he left the weight of that day with him.

He had won. He could win, and he didn’t. Now Grindelwald was free to continue tormenting the world and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

It was over.

“Originally I wanted to take you back in there. To your office of course. I’m sure you remember our time together there, and, well, I wanted to relive it one more time,” he sighed, limping away before turning to face Percival one last time. “But, I’m all out of patience and frankly – I don’t need you anymore. It’s been, I’m sure, quite a pleasure working with you, Percy.”

Grindelwald lifted his wand, already glowing green at the tip.

So, this is how it would end.

It was strange, in a way. After so many years of being subjected to a slew of creative curses that Ilvermorny’s rejects came up with, he never imagined his own life would be taken by the simplest of them all. He’d always found it cruel how a spell deemed to be so quick and painless was anything but for the loved ones left behind. At least Tina wouldn’t have to see him suffer.

He heard the crackle that filled the air, saw the world turned black but-

He wasn’t dead.

_Tina._ Standing right over him, wand drawn and a spell of red smashing into Grindelwald’s chest so fiercely it threw him back into a tree with a loud crack that shook the ground.

“Don’t you _ever_ touch him again.”

Oh, fuck.

At that moment Percival was sure of two things – that his jaw had dropped like an idiot, and that he was absolutely, irrevocably in love with this woman.

More people quickly ran forward, all throwing one spell after the other in Grindelwald’s direction until it was all that he could see. They were blurs of black and brown, a mass of Aurors and civilians who Tina brought to put this criminal behind bars. Hell, she brought everyone. Even Bob had stayed with his team, all covered in a cloak of blue that deflected incoming attacks into the dying trees of oak and maple that covered his property, and, inevitably, his own house. Somehow, he couldn’t find it in him to care.

All while he lay there, gasping for air even as each breath stabbed at his chest.

“Percival,” Tina was suddenly over him and once her eyes found his hands they stayed there, open wide in shock. “It’s going to be alright. Stay still, love, the Healers are on their way.”

Half her face was burnt red. Gods, she needed help; he needed to get her help.

“Tina,” he greeted, her name alone sucking every bit of air from his lungs. She tried to shush him, to tell him not to talk but she needed to know. Even if they were his last words, damn it she would know. “Always- _fuck_ , always showing up when we need you most.”

_You’re hurt_ , he wanted to say but only a gurgled cough escaped his throat. He tried and he tried, but he was drowning in a vacuum as the world around him exploded in color and sound. She took both his broken hands and he should have winced but she was so soft and warm against him, unaffected by the chilling weather. For a brief moment, he wasn’t shaking in pain.

“Stay with me.” Tina repeated. Or at least it’s what it sounded like as the pounding in his head washed away all noise. There was so much. So many flashes of light behind her. He focused on the tiny dimples on her cheek, nearly obscured by the messy hair falling all over it. Beautiful. Always beautiful. She started saying something else; something hurried and the blurring locket around her neck knocked against him. He always wondered what was in there. A picture of her sister? Her parents? A secret that no one could know? What a strange time to wonder such things.

Merlin, he was tired.

Tina was beginning to darken. They all were. She was screaming now, loud and afraid. He could feel it rattle her voice to pieces. How cruel of life – to bring them together with the tiniest taste of happiness and hope, just to viciously take it all back in the end.

It didn’t matter. She was alright and that’s all he wanted. Tina was a good, smart woman with plenty of years of ahead of her. She would go on and find another, younger man to give her everything she deserved; the finest food, travels from one end of the world to the other, children running around the dinner table. _Happiness_. She deserved to be happy.

Until that picture faded away too, until he was alone and sinking into the void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost towards the end of this amazing story and a big thanks for everyone who has stuck with me! Only a few more chapters to go.
> 
> A few notes - Tina was indeed under the Imperius Curse in the beginning. Grindelwald had a hard time getting her to obey to it even before this chapter opened (it's how her nose got re-broken). She's a strong-willed person, and even though she hasn't earned all the training the top Aurors receive, she knows enough not to fall victim to it easily. In the end it didn't matter how powerful Grindelwald was - she could not ever bring herself to harm Percival.
> 
> Queenie got help!! She might not be an Auror but someone give this girl a damn medal.
> 
> Little reunion and show of teamwork for Percival and Tina. There will be a lot more reconciling between these two in the chapters to come but I wanted you guys to see a little bit of it here.
> 
> And, yes, Grindelwald is finally DOWN. After so many chapters and fights he finally was bested by our heroes, but not without sacrifice.


	28. A Healer's Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Tina was the one person who could remove Grindelwald's curse?
> 
> ...What if it came at a greater cost than she imagined?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super late, mainly because the holidays are a VERY busy time for me every year. However, now that Christmas is over, there's more time. Expect less time for the next few chapters guys!

“Goldstein, you need to see a Healer or somethin’.” Smith said, trying to pull Tina from the single tile she claimed in the busy hallway.

A fourth Healer; younger, with his long hair tied in a ridiculous ponytail walked into the room and shut the door so quickly she couldn’t catch a single word. This wasn’t good. More experts meant more uncertainty, it meant they hadn’t figured out how to heal him.

It meant…

“I’m fine,” she lied, blood-stained hands visibly trembling for all to see. “Go, the others could use some help rounding up the prisoners.”

“I wasn’t the one that stood up to that maniac.”

Is that what she did? All she remembered was a shade of green that forced her body forward. It was something beyond the wildest magic she could do and she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to replicate it, a mix of fear and pure desperation that had her ready to take down a full grown dragon.

“We all would’ve done it,” Tina reasoned against the belief of anyone that had been there. “I was just closer.”

She wasn’t looking but she could sense Smith’s frustration. He fidgeted, shifting his weight from one leg to another before laying a hand on her shoulder again. “C’mon, Goldstein,” he said and she shrugged his hand off. “Tina. At least wash that off your hands.”

“Grindelwald’s in there too, you know.”

“And there’s not one damn person in that room who’s going to let him out.”

He didn’t know that. No one did, but there was nowhere else to keep the stunned and petrified prisoner that also kept him under the watchful eyes of someone the President could trust. The prison cells weren’t safe, nor were the other rooms. There were just too many spies out there; turncoats they didn’t even imagine existed. It was a risk they couldn’t afford to take and yet it was impossible to deny the dried blood clinging to her skin, reminding her it was there whenever she moved a muscle.

Reminding her she failed, again.

A nurse, carrying a stack of potions above her head, pushed the door open and Tina choked at the sight. Skin and bone, bruised to hell, unmoving and barely breathing. It didn’t even look like him anymore.

“ _Tina-_ ”

“Alright, but I’m coming back.”

Smith said something far too motherly for an Auror, yet all that Tina could hear were hushed murmurs of the nurses around them, using complicated terminology they didn’t learn in the Academy. She would go, wash up the evidence of her failure, and wait back in the hall. Percival would’ve never abandoned her to a bunch of strangers and she wasn’t about to do that to him.

Tina turned on the faucet, set it to boiling and waited.

Her reflection stared back. Tired, cold. Defeated. Old. It didn’t even look like her either.

_Who are you?_

There was no one in the stalls behind her, no nurses, no guests, no Queenie. Just a lone, smoldering thought that she had been too late. She wasn’t fast enough. She stopped one curse but let about a million more through and she dared to think herself his partner, his Assistant Director. Where the hell was she when Grindelwald was tearing his hands open? Where the hell was she the first time he was taken down this rabbit hole?

This time Tina didn’t try to stop the heavy, angry tears from falling at the reality she tried to deny.

He was dying and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do.

She could scrub and scrub but the blood would never be truly off her hands. It would always be there, staring at her like the angry scars from his hand. Something bold and red, that only she could see but that the whole world knew was there.

Tina dipped her hand under the smoking water when she saw it. Something green and silky, stuck to her palm and immune to the water. It shone under the hot lights of the bathroom and when she pulled at it it faded into the air. It was magic. It was a rope.

_A rope._

_…Love can untangle even the fiercest of knots_ …

_…That little native curse I put on his hands…_

_…woven its way across the bones in his hands…tying itself like a sturdy rope…_

_Mercy Lewis._

Percival’s curse was a rope, tied around his hands but why the hell was she never able to take them off?! What was so different-

Oh! Grindelwald re-broke his hands-and-when they were rebroken she could undo them-and-

_She could cure him._

Tina dashed out of the bathroom, past a tired Healer with a baby in her arms, past a shouting Auror and people who certainly had a right to yell at her. She could cure him – she always could. Whatever it was that soothed the pain in his hands was never that damn no-maj balm – it was her - somehow - and it was in front of them this whole time. When they brought him in the first time they made a mistake healing his hands right away. She had to stop them from making the same damn mistake.

When she barged into his room, the four Healers with surgical masks and all sorts of spells on their tongues looked at her as if she were a Chinese Fireball – and she felt like one.

“Goldstein!” Jacobs growled, coming in between her and Percival. She barely caught a glimpse of his near-naked body, so devoid of life that she wasn’t sure he was still with the living.

What she was about to do was illegal in a million different ways.

She normally arrested people like this.

Tina raised her wand, and she petrified the Head Healer before he could say another word. The other three Healers, suddenly realizing their predicament tried to fight back but they weren’t Aurors. She petrified all three before they could even think of a spell to stop her.

“I’m not letting you go,” Tina said, grabbing both of Percival’s still bloodied hands. “So please stay with me. Just for another minute.”

He was cold to the touch. She didn’t have much time and if this insanity didn’t work then she just declared herself a traitor while sentencing her lover to death by petrifying the only other people who could help him.

Though, honestly, her job and arrest status were the last things on her mind.

Tina rubbed and pulled on his bruised skin until she could see it – green ropes everywhere his scars had been. She tugged harder, easing the green curse away from him, where it seemingly vanished into the air. It was working. Holy Merlin it was working! She was only vaguely aware of the muffled screaming behind her, of how she only had maybe seconds before someone ran into the room to see why a crazed Auror had broken in to a very delicate procedure. She was curing him. The curse – the damn curse had been slowly pulling him apart and she was taking it out, inch by inch, from both hands.

It was tiring. She yanked out more and more but each movement left her out of breath. When had she become so tired? No matter. The scars had disappeared almost completely, she was nearly done. Just a little more, just…

Tina pulled at another string but what came out was not green, and it was not silky. Something black, thicker than blood seeped through next, entangled in the curse she had been pulling out. And, it _moved_ , on its own accord. This-it wasn’t right-

As soon as it had pulled away from Percival’s body it attacked _her_. Tina jerked back but she wasn’t fast enough, and it coiled around her wrist like a boa constrictor around its prey, clenching and squeezing the life right out. It didn’t just hurt – it burned against the scars Grindelwald had just gifted her and it wouldn’t stop.

The curse wanted her. It wanted her energy, to break her apart as it did Percival. It was out of him – he would live but the curse needed to consume someone, it needed-

Tina fell back, not to the wall but to another bed. A bed housing someone she had become intimately familiar with in the past few days and she knew immediately what to do. His fine, imported suit sat in tatters around his body but there was no sign of any curse damage or suffering in his little angelic face.

Not for long.

Just the slightest movement brought a surging pain through her arm but she grabbed onto Grindelwald and didn’t let go. Maybe it wouldn’t work. Maybe this was all a pipe dream.

Maybe…

A flash of light. Yelling.

“ _Stupefy!_ ” A woman shouted, and Tina immediately felt its ferocity smash into her back.

She collapsed, hitting the soft mattress, the wall and eventually the cold tile as a sea of blurred people flooded into the room. Someone – an Auror, by the suit – picked her up.

There was blood all over their hands too.

The next time Tina blinked she was on a bed staring up at two Healers. They were yelling something about a curse and her arm and she couldn’t move; couldn’t even swallow.

Tina blinked again and when she opened her eyes she was greeted by Percival.

Percival. Sitting on the kitchen table at his home, reading the morning paper with a bagel in hand.

“You alright, love?” He asked absent-mindedly, flipping the page to the Business section where a broom ad zoomed from one page to the other. _Pigsby Brooms for the pernickety purchaser!_

The grandfather clock chimed seven times off in the distance.

There was a coffee mug across from Percival. Her mug.

Tina took a deep breath and welcomed the sweet aroma, the slight chill in the air because Percival never did keep the damn house warm. She walked to him, brushed his shorter hairs with the tips of her fingers, ran them up to the thicker, already slicked back head of hair and Percival chuckled. This was him. He was real, he was alive.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s lovely,” Tina said, smiling like an idiot. “Absolutely lovely.”

“Say, will you get me a little more coffee? I’m running low already.”

He lifted his mug with a little shake, showing not a single drop of liquid left. Not ideal – the Auror department ran on coffee and screamed deadlines alone, Percival more than any of them. She kissed the top of his head and took the empty vessel back to the counter.

“Perce – I think I lost track of time a little, what day is it?”

“Monday,” Percival said, half-chewing his bagel. “You really have to pay better attention, my dear.”

_My dear?_

Something in his voice tumbled and changed before her eyes. Tina looked up from the coffee pot, to the window, to the reflection staring back at her.

 _It wasn’t Percival_. The hair she had mussed was now white as one of his eyes. Grindelwald was back, sitting at the table, chewing on his breakfast, wearing Percival’s suit.

“But don’t worry, love,” he said and in the blink of an eye he was behind her, his lips toying with the shell of her ear. “I’ll always be here. Always.”

Tina dropped the mug where it shattered on the floor and she screamed, louder than she thought she could, until the windows broke and her heart pounded against her ears like a drum. She tried to fight, to hit him but her wand arm burned in response, keeping her locked in place.

“Tina?”

Tina shifted awake, gasping in the cold air of reality that pulled her out of her head and back into the real world. A cold, dark world where every breath scratched at her throat, where her wand arm ached and burned in protest. She tried to blink away the exhaustion and the face that still burned into her mind but the fear still kept her heart pounding in her ears.

It was dark. It was dark and someone was coming! He was back, he was taking her, he-

“Teen? You were mumblin’ something in your sleep.”

A small, delicate spell flew across the room into the nearby candles and lit up Queenie’s face. Queenie. Not Grindelwald. Grindelwald didn’t have her sister’s perfume. He didn’t know how to brush her hair out of her cheeks and behind her ear like her sister had been doing for years after bad dreams and fever-inspired hallucinations. Yet even with her sister whispering little reassurances she could still feel him there and it left her shivering.

 _Percival._ It all flashed at once; the battle, the snow, Percival fading before her eyes.

How she had stunned four Healers.

She didn’t have any cuffs on. She _should_ have about twenty.

“Did it work? Is he-”

“He’s alive,” Queenie whispered, and Tina could nearly cry at those words. “They say he shouldn’t be, but his heart’s still beating. Slow, but strong.”

_He was alive._

“They did want to cuff you for that,” Queenie smirked. “I told them I’d keep an eye on ya until the President could speak to you, that you ain’t going anywhere.”

“The-Picquery’s coming here?”

Queenie nodded, ever the doting mother hen that Tina tried to be for her. And, it didn’t matter. Tina had barged into a restricted area and assaulted four medical professionals. Picquery wasn’t coming to check in on her – she was coming to fire her, and possibly place her under arrest if the Healers decided to press charges.

She would never see Percival again. Not like how it used to be.

The idea sent another cold shiver up her spine.

“It’s cold.” Tina whispered, trying to pull the thin covers up to her chin. That little movement sent a shock through her arm and she hated the noise she just inflicted her sister with.

“And that’s after I cast a little warming charm on you,” Queenie said, pulling the covers up for her. Somehow, all Tina could think about Percival’s big, fluffy covers in his room in comparison to this. “Hold on, don’t move, your arm’s a little banged up but they said it should be alright in a few weeks.”

A few weeks?! That was the understatement of the year. Her right arm – her wand arm – had been bandaged up worse than what she’d done to Percival’s hands after their day at the lake. She tried to move just her hand but the pain left her whimpering again.

“Oh stop that. Don’t make me turn you into a worm through New Years too.”

“New Years?” Tina paused. “What day is it?”

“Sunday. You two have been out for two days.”

Two days. It didn’t even feel like two hours.

“Both of us?”

Queenie’s smile faltered for a moment too long, giving Tina the answer she didn’t want to hear.

“Both of those curses left a lot of damage behind; the poor soul. I heard that it took a whole day just to extract all the curse residue before they could even try healing him. They called in so many specialists; you should have seen the parade. They blocked off that part of the hospital wing just for him now. They even took Grindelwald away but no one knows where he could be. All hush hush. It’s hard to hear, from all the way over here, but I try.”

“I know, I know,” Tina sighed. “What else did you manage to pick up?”

“That _everyone_ saw your little display in the forest,” Queenie smirked. “The only reason it ain’t front page news is because the press wasn’t there to snag a photo. They even have a new nickname for you.”

“Of course, they do,” Tina tried not to think about it. “Do I want to know?”

“The angel of death,” Queenie said, sounding all too proud, like she’d made it up herself. Tina couldn’t help but twist her nose at the terrible sounding name; she didn’t want anyone dead except that maniac. “The woman who faced Grindelwald and won.”

“It was a joint effort,” Tina corrected. So many people worked in tangent to bring him down. Bob and the Ministry Aurors, MACUSA’s own best and brightest, her sister, even the President chose to join the fray instead of sitting at the hospital like she should have done. “Is that all they saw? Nothing about me breaking into his room?”

“Not yet, but, give it some time. Picquery’s probably doing all she can to silence that part but even she can’t keep away the gossip for too long. You know they always find out.”

Tina sighed again. If the world knew everything she did for him, it wouldn’t take long to piece it together. They wouldn’t even need that many photos or corroborating witnesses to put together the fact that they were in a relationship. Hell, the whole department probably already knew and by the end of the week so would all of MACUSA.

Picquery would have to fire her. She couldn’t have her Director slipping into bed with his subordinate. A subordinate that assaulted four people, broke into an emergency room, and couldn’t even use her arm.

It was over.

“You don’t know that,” Queenie scolded. “Even if she did have the nerve to fire you – there’s more Auror positions around the world, y’know. America isn’t the only place with misbehavin’ wizards and witches.”

“And leave you?”

Queenie scratched Tina’s head, like they did as kids when the monsters in the closet were too big for just one of them to handle. “I’d come with you, silly. In your suitcase, like one of Newt’s creatures.”

Oh, Newt. It felt like an eternity ago that she tagged along with him through New York. Newt did help her get her job back at MACUSA. Maybe he could pull some strings with his brother and get her a job at the Ministry too.

But she wouldn’t see Percival anymore.

“I need your help.”

All it took was one look for her sister to understand completely what she was about to ask and shake her head vigorously at the ideas running wild through Tina’s mind.

“Absolutely not, I-”

“How’s your Disillusionment Charm?”

\--

“You think they’ll ever wake up?”

The younger Auror, barely filling out his coat asked the elder beside him. The older man, his own coat marred with scars from the world, brought light to the cigarette dangling from his mouth. Both from Chicago if their midwestern accents were anything to go by.

“I just hope whatever they do, they do together.”

“Why’s that?”

He shrugged, causing the smoke to waft up and down with his shoulders. “S’more romantic that way, don’t you think? They either die or live together. Makes for a good story.”

The younger Auror coughed, shaking his head. “D’you have to do that now Cam? Merlin, we’re not at the damn bar.”

Tina held her breath as she stayed as far away from the smoke cloud as possible. It was practically the only thing that could give her away.

“Don’t be so green. You know Graves smokes like a chimney too.”

That, he did, Tina thought. He was running low last time they were together and he would appreciate a fresh box once he woke up. When the older Auror turned, Tina slipped her hand into his pocket and pulled out the small box that disappeared into her hand without a trace. Easy, a portkey and a solution to his habit all in one place.

The two men turned the corner, their footsteps fading out of reach. Tina pulled away her cloak and squeezed the cigarette case.

“Gondulphus Graves.”

She didn’t even have to wait to see if what Queenie “heard” was correct. The ball of magic packed in that tiny bundle grabbed her by the hand and whisked her away until she landed in an equally dark hospital room.

Unlike hers, she could feel the suffocating wards against the walls, holding in anything in the room while repelling any undesirables. All she could hope for was that the patrolling Auror didn’t notice his portkey was missing and that no one decided to suddenly check in on the Director. It was late, after all, and by her calculations the nurses wouldn’t show up to administer any potions for at least another four hours or so. As long as everyone acted like they were supposed to, she could have some time alone with him.

Tina picked herself up off the floor, noting the yellow ball of light floating above his chest. It vibrated, like a beating drum and when she brushed his hair back and away from his eyes it hummed just a little louder.

It was keeping track of his heart; his vitals.

He looked miles healthier than she imagined for only two days in bed. Both cheeks had that small flush of life and she could see the covers moving with every breath, fighting to hang on and beat back the curses meant to keep him down. Maybe all of his ills could just be fixed with some decent sleep.

“I missed you,” she said with a hopeful smile. “I can’t stay too long. There’s only so many rules I can get caught breaking right now.”

Partially true, and she was running on borrowed time anyway. Tina picked up a wet cloth and brushed away any remnants of dried blood the nurses didn’t see. He’d appreciate it eventually, and she suspected he would also like it if she got rid of the heavy stubble lining his jaw but that was far too personal. Most of his body was pretty heavily bandaged, but they were still recent. Nothing to change there.

They had ripped his clothes off in the rush to fix him up and the remnants of them sat folded at his bedside table. She could mend them easily enough but she had a feeling that he wouldn’t be too keen on wearing it again, just as he never touched the clothing Grindelwald had selected in his short tenure as Director of Magical Security. That was fine. If anything, Queenie could always help him pick out something new; if he even needed her help.

Tina took the ripped shirt, then the waistcoat, when she noticed something that shouldn't have been there. Something small and woolen and black – that just didn’t belong.

Oh. Her gloves. The same gloves she gifted him after he made an ass of himself, that he wore when he rescued her.

Percival had kept her gloves with him, this whole time. Even after he thought she was gone.

“You know,” she said through the sudden ball in her throat. “For a stubborn old man, you sure have a soft side.”

One that most people would never know about, and that was fine. The world didn’t need to know everything. They would never know of his nightmares, of his panic attacks, of his fear of the darkness. To the world, he would continue to be Director Percival Graves.

She continued to search the room for the one thing that had bothered her since she landed there. Something that felt off, for him at least, but she couldn’t see anything. It was too dark.

It was too dark.

Those idiots. Two tiny, poorly lit candles weren’t enough to fill the room and erase the nightmares borne out of darkness. Percival hated it and if he came to in the middle of the night she could at least make sure the dancing shadows didn’t resemble the man they both loathed. Gods, and his covers! These were the cheap, thin hospital variety that had her shivering the past night.

She didn’t have all her power back, but she had enough.

Tina summoned another, bigger candle and floated it high, next to the others. It was a little lopsided, with part of the sides looking like they were lobbed off with a butter knife, but it would do. The covers were harder. Anything in that room had already been enchanted – some for decades – and for a measly Auror to cast a thickening charm on something ancient sucked away whatever energy she had left.

“I hope this isn’t too warm,” Tina muttered, squishing down the heavy covers by his arms and legs, where the cold air could seep in. “I don’t want you getting the wrong idea and staying there longer than you have to.”

Tina tried to muster a small smile but nothing came.

“You’re going to be alright,” she commanded,hanging her coat on the chair and taking a seat beside him. Even his hand was cold. “Your body just needs time. That’s all. You’ll be fine.”

A part of her knew that it wasn’t him she was trying to reassure, and she squeezed his hand harder. Maybe, if she could just warm him up and rub some life into him it could fix things. It got that damned curse out of him and maybe it could bring him back too. Shikoba would know, but it was too soon for her to answer; she would’ve needed a much faster owl or even a raven to get an overnight response and Queenie was probably only sending a regular owl. No matter; it wasn't an emergency anymore.

There was so much that even the Healers didn’t know. They brought in so many experts in long-term curse damage just for him and most couldn’t believe Percival survived as long as he did. Even Jacobs, a man who could’ve been eighty or eight hundred and with more experience than the whole unit drew a blank. It felt so hopeless.

Tina was still fiercely massaging Percival when Jacobs walked in, a medical chart in hand.

Her wand was in her coat pocket. His wand was tucked inside his pants pocket.

She knew the guards were still outside. He looked to them. He knew too.

Neither moved.

Instead, he closed the door.

“You got one, kid, don’t get cocky,” he sighed, giving her a look that simultaneously thanked her and told her never to do that again. “You do know visiting hours ended when the sun set.”

Tina flashed him a burning glare that could only be described as _‘you know the visiting hours don’t pertain to me.’_

“I know,” Jacobs said softly. It was the closest thing to empathetic bed-side manner she had ever seen from the old Healer. “He’s my friend too.”

Considering how Percival never spoke of this told Tina that this was not the typical friendship, but she shrugged it off. Jacobs turned to his patient and began humming a low spell that immediately warmed the room and brought life into it once again. The spell, a bright yellow ray, spilled out of his wand and sunk into Percival’s left leg and through it – but nowhere else.

“it’s for his bones,” Jacobs clarified. “Can’t heal them all at once, not without overwhelming him. This takes care of them little by little.”

“He won’t be too happy when he wakes up.”

“No, but at least he will wake up,” Jacobs said. He was examining Percival’s leg and with each little hum he appeared pleased with his work. “How’s your arm?”

Tina tried to tilt the sling that Queenie labored on but it just led to a quick hiss. “Still can’t move it.”

“Well, if you promise not to stun me, I’ll take a look.”

“I didn’t stun you,” Tina fought. Jacobs shot her a pointed look but took her arm anyway, unraveling the bandages without any of the same concern Queenie showed. “I petrified you – and I didn’t have a choice,” she continued, and his brows furrowed in a way Percival’s never had. “Don’t you dare. You’re telling me that if I told you I found a way to get rid of his curse that you would’ve stepped aside?”

“Of course not. But it could’ve been, I don’t know, maybe a little gentler? More lady-like or something?”

Tina tried not to roll her eyes. She failed, and Jacobs smiled.

“Relax, _Assistant Director_. It’s a joke.”

She knew what a joke was; she just didn’t think he was very good at them.

He finished pulling off the rest of the bandages and it was worse than Tina imagined. She never wanted Queenie to see them, or Percival. There were red and purple lines, spread out like lightning bolts that rose and fell from her elbow all the way down to her hands. She tried to clench her hand but Jacobs stopped her as quickly as she had the idea.

“Careful. I wouldn’t try to channel any magic through that hand either – even through a wand.”

“For how long?”

He looked up, and away. Tina’s heart kicked in her chest. “Hard to say. It’s a lot of damage for one arm. I know that if you try something now, you’ll be reeling in pain like a banshee. Unfortunately, we just have to wait.”

No magic through her wand arm. None.

Jacobs began re-wrapping her arm, all the while murmuring something that lit up the bandages, made them nice and cool against her skin but she felt no relief. No magic certainly meant no job. It meant having to learn how to duel again; how to do even the most basic things like sending clothes to be washed, or peeling a potato. She may as well not even have an arm anymore.

“…And keep this warm. When the blue begins to fade back to this pale grey it means it’s time to change them. Alright?”

“Yes,” Tina sighed. “Though you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“I want him to get some rest.”

“He will, and I’ll make sure of it. He stayed with me when I got stuck here a few nights ago.”

“He snuck in,” he reasoned, a hand dropping to Tina’s shoulder. “And besides-”

“I’m not leaving him _,”_ It came out as a snarl that had Jacobs pulling back and Tina did not regret it. “I told him I’d stay, and I intend on doing that.”

Jacobs took his hands off her as if she stung as he damn well should have. There was a time when Tina cared about rules and posted visiting hours but she was so past that. No matter what they said his life still hung in the balance and if it was cruel enough to take away his last breath then she would at least be there when it happened. He deserved no less.

And, it worked. Jacobs turned to cast the rest of his healing charms all the while glaring at Tina through the side of his eyes as a beautiful veil of gold and silver fell over him, sinking into clothes and skin. That was fine. He could be pissy all he wanted but there was no way in hell she would get up off that chair, and if he glared any harder she’d transfigure her chair into a bed and be done with it.

Once the job was done and the door clicked softly behind him, Tina kneaded their hands together again. It was hard not to hurt. There was nothing she could do. Nothing. It didn’t matter how many times she brushed his hair back or rubbed circles into the healing muscles of his hands. She had to be _patient_.

With a sigh, she leaned over and rest her head on his chest. It was easy to forget for a moment that they were in a hospital room; that he was clinging to dear life. She could close her eyes and focus on the steady beating of his heart as it continued to rebel against death. Maybe if she stayed like this long enough she could get it to fight harder and push death back to where it came from away from them until Percival decided that hot dogs were in fact a viable lunch option.

“When you wake up I’ll even bring you one,” Tina said with a smile. “Complete with mustard and onions and everything you tell people you don’t love. I’ve seen you order one at the cart downstairs, then sneak it into your office. You don’t fool me, Percival Graves. As soon as you wake up.”

 _When_ , she reminded herself, not if.

“There’s a place, in the upper east side that really takes the cake. They put everything you want and the big guy at the front doesn’t even eye you wrong for it. Billy, I think is his name,” she rambled to the steady pumping against her ear. “What am I saying – you probably know the place. Your family knows this whole damn city.”

That, she had no doubt. Tina took a breath and told him about meeting his family’s portraits, including how unreasonable his father seemed. Criticizing a man’s father was usually not on the table this early into the relationship but she had a feeling he would agree. She even told him about Gondulphus and the message he wanted delivered. Maybe even let slip that she hoped he wouldn’t become him when he was older. All he needed was a scar or two along his face and a slightly more pessimistic view on humanity and he’d be there – old, alone, and miserable. He wasn’t far, and the idea still terrified her.

Tina kept talking, about the time she accidentally turned a boy she liked into a frog, about her sister and her dreams of becoming a world-famous seamstress, even about Jacob. Anything to keep silence from washing over them and bringing her back to a small, chilly hospital room in the middle of winter. Eventually the stories became fuzzier and messier as her mind dribbled in and out of sleep. She didn’t even realize it was happening until something heavy and very much real fell on her shoulder.

“Goldstein.”

The cold voice had her jumping awake, wiping sleep away from her eyes and the corner of her mouth before she could even process the woman beside her.

Percival still hadn’t moved a muscle.

Picquery, meanwhile, was full of life. In between her carefully tailored suit and the matching headdress Tina would’ve never guessed this same woman had been a prisoner of Grindelwald just a few days ago. Just like how she never expected Percival to be back at work four days after his ordeal.

But she understood, and added just a little more oomph to the candle hanging besides them.

The President pulled up another chair and that’s when Tina realized she still had her hands all over him. Mercy Lewis, did she see? How much did she see? If she ever hoped to have any deniability-

“Don’t bother,” Picquery sighed. “If you barged into this room and put down four of the best Healers in the world for any reason other than love, I would’ve had you sent to the dungeons two days ago.”

“He would’ve done the same.” Tina said, unsure of why she was even bothering to make an excuse.

“Yes, he would. He has,” Picquery sighed, weary and heavy, more tired than frustrated. She did not expect Picquery to hum out a small chuckle. “You see me walking through the door and your first instinct is to hide _this_ from me.”

“I’ve stunned too many superiors this week,” Tina mocked. “Thought I’d take a break.”

“I see, but no issues in enlisting your sister to help you sneak out of your room and into the one wing of this hospital that is expressly forbidden?”

She caught Queenie.

“It was my idea, Ma’am, she fought me on it but-”

“At ease, I sent her home. You, on the other hand.”

… _Will not be so fortunate_ , Tina thought. Actions had consequences. She learned that lesson all too well after attacking Mary Lou, but this time she truly had no regrets about what she did. So, Tina sat up a little straighter, took a deep breath, and faced the President.

“Entangling with an Auror makes for a hard life,” Picquery said, staring off and away. “The job doesn’t have the longest life expectancy.”

“It isn’t supposed to. You either die on the job or retire from injuries. Old Aurors are unicorns.”

Picquery settled into the chair, her lip curling into a small smile. “I was a little older than you when I met George,” she started, out of nowhere. “He was a big man, stoic as a gargoyle. To most, anyway. After a few rounds of Gigglewater he could holler just about any song on the radio. Not well, mind you.”

Tina smiled at the thought of her serious President with such a man.

“We were all friends back then,” she said, gesturing to Percival. “Young, hungry and foolish with all of our ideas. We thought we could take over the world.”

“I think it’s necessary, to survive the early days,” Tina said. “I don’t know if I would’ve made it through the academy if I didn’t believe in it; if I was only in it for the money.”

“Absolutely. It separates the wolves from the sheep. George and Percival, well, they were about the fiercest wolves I ever set my eyes on. I knew that given enough years – enough scars – the three of us could lead MACUSA into something better than it was. Than it is. But I wasn’t expecting one of us to leave.”

Her voice softened and Tina could almost forget that the person sharing this with her was the President. At that moment they may as well have been friends, sharing the latest news over a bagel and a coffee.

“It wasn’t a special case, or a special day. Just a matter of bad luck, of standing in the wrong place at the wrong time and in the snap of a finger everything changed. He changed too.”

She gestured to Percival, still breathing softly and that’s when it clicked.

The ‘partner’ he lost, the night he shut himself off. It was Piquery’s lover; his friend.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Tina knew. “But he blames himself.”

“Like the sun rises in the east and sets in the west,” she sighed. “The man’s stubborn as an aging hippogriff – worse than his father and grandfather put together. If he finds George in the afterlife I bet you he’ll spend all of eternity apologizing for not being fast enough, for not jumping in front of the man’s wand.”

 _That_ , she could believe.

“Be careful. Both of you.”

Tina knew what she meant, and even in the sight of her boss she reached to Percival, to take his healing hand back once again. It was warmer, now, and she kissed it with a prayer on her lips, an ask to the universe or anyone that could answer.

“Madam President,” Tina started, fighting off the fear of the future, of the unknown. She had to know. “Should I be looking for another job?”

Both of Picquery’s brows shot up. “In a manner of speaking,” she said. Tina swallowed, allowing herself a small nod but nothing else to show her confusion. “But first, I could use a good Auror, if you think you’re well enough.”

Tina fought against the aching arm still wrapped in a pound of bandages and nodded once again. Picquery wouldn’t have asked if Jacobs hadn’t already cleared her for duty anyway.

“Good. Come, I’ll brief you on the way. We have a special person that needs an escort far away from here.”

Picquery stood, pushing back the chair until it scraped against the floor. Tina followed, untangling herself from Percival once again. She didn’t want to get up, to leave him to a group of strangers who didn’t know him. But, this was a mission. Maybe her last – she didn’t know.

He looked so peaceful, in rest. If it weren’t for the messy hair or the growing stubble he would’ve looked no different than when she left him on her couch a few days ago. Somehow even with the salt and pepper look, he had shed years from his life.

“Goldstein?”

It was time. Tina stepped through the door, and with a heavy heart, she closed it behind her.


	29. Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original plan was to get this out nearly a month ago but I had some tragic events at work really bring me down and made life much harder. But, it's getting better and I'm looking ahead. We're almost done guys!

“Hello?”

Percival’s voice echoed through the empty MACUSA lobby. _Empty_. On a plain working Monday; the slobs, all of them. Light was flooding in through the high windows and there was no denying that MACUSA had never been so void of life. Even the house elves hadn’t bothered showing up and their union was not going to stand behind that. Did no one tell him about some new public holiday? Fuck. He didn’t vote to approve any additional days off.

_‘…your father was a bit difficult wasn’t he?’_

The voice – admittedly too true for words - echoed against the walls of the empty atrium. Tina’s voice – she was here but where? He turned, from one side to the other, calling her name but nothing and-

“Hey-you!” He shouted at the person running through one of the halls, to the lift, and he ran after them. It was a man if his glimpse was correct, golden blonde hair flailing behind him. His footsteps echoed too and Percival chased the promising sound, harder and harder until-

The lift was…empty?

“What the fuck,” Percival growled, stepping in, where the doors locked behind him. “Hey! I swear to Merlin if this damn joke doesn’t stop-”

The lift zoomed up, faster than it should ever travel, before spitting Percival out in Major Investigations where he was all too happy to fly out of the contraption of death. He was about to curse the damn thing and whoever created it, and their damn ancestors when he heard it again.

_‘…and my sister’s still trying to see if he’ll remember her. Maybe he will. I hope he will. Jacob’s a good man…’_

It was louder. It was louder and just beyond the door. Tina could help make sense of all this; she was always quick.

But when Percival marched into Major Investigations, he froze.

Lopez, Olly and Craster also froze in the middle of their conversation.

Ah. He was dead. He was dead and his gateway to the next life was within MACUSA. Of course.

Olly jerked his hat down so quickly it nearly ripped. “Mr. Graves!”

“Ah, hell. I was hopin’ it wasn’t you.” Craster said, sliding his own hat down.

Lopez didn’t say anything – not yet. He walked up to Percival, the picture of the successful, rapidly growing Auror he promoted not so long ago. Still wearing his signature leather jacket, also without any blemishes or marks. It never had a chance to earn any. He was a good hand taller and when his handshake pulled Percival into a hug he just let him. He never should have died. If he’d just escaped Grindelwald sooner, if he hadn’t been stuck in the hospital-

“You don’t belong here.”

He pulled away, looking at Percival as if he were some fascinating beast.

But what the hell did that mean? Did dead Directors of Magical Security go somewhere else? Did someone fuck up, even in his own death?

Olly came next, pressing his hand against Percival’s chest. “Holy heck, you’re not kidding. He’s still alive.”

“What? No kiddin’,” Craster stepped up next, continuing this odd new ritual of his three Aurors grabbing onto his chest and neck and anywhere else he could have a pulse. Whatever fears of doing this to him in life they suddenly shed in death. “Looks like the world ain’t done with you yet.”

“I can go back?” Percival asked, hope quickly flushing back to his chest.

“If you want,” Lopez said, tipping his hat. “You’re on the cusp, Mr. Graves.”

_I can go back_ , his mind repeated, a cruel taunt to the three men who had no escape. He could turn around, find the exit and leave this place, back home. Home. What home? His last glimpses of the battle showed the house being torn to pieces by errant curses and since he made it a point to leave it’s not like it would repair itself. No, in his bones he knew his ancestral home was gone.

No matter, there was still work to be done at MACUSA. They still needed to close the Grindelwald case, extract all they could from the prisoners as well as re-do their entire hiring process to avoid Grindelwald fanatics. That is, if he was still allowed to make any of these decisions. Soon enough the public would hear about his use of the Hex Indicator to find Tina, of how he used magic in front of no-majs with no regard for their laws. And, surely, they wouldn’t forget the damage and destruction Grindelwald caused because he wasn’t doing his job.

And, Tina. She was probably worried sick. If his injuries were as awful as he predicted, it wouldn’t be the end of her worry. Knowing her, she’d be working herself ragged to take care of him and his broken heap of a body. She didn’t deserve that; none of it should be her burden to bear. Gods, and with the laws, she might even lose her job because of him and what they had, no matter how brief.

Percival swallowed hard.

“Mr. Graves?” Olly called. “You _are_ going back aren’t you?”

Craster sat up on top of the main desk. “Course he is, kid. He’s got a girl to go back to.”

“That really true, boss? You and Goldstein?”

Lopez’s eyebrows nearly shot through his hat and Percival must’ve blushed fiercely because they all started to laugh and clap him on the back.

“We all get stung sometime,” Craster declared, to happy smiles of the others. “I bet she’s waitin’ for ya when you wake up, better take advantage now when she’s all sweet and mellow. Give it a week and it’s yellin’ about household chores.”

Percival sighed. She probably was waiting for him. 

A bell rung in the distance, a strange mix of the clock in his desk and something he couldn't place but the three men looked to the nearby door at the sound.

"Well, looks like it's time, fellas." Craster sighed, looking to the others. Time? There was a time limit in whatever this was? Craster was about to put his hand on Olly's shoulder when the kid shrugged away from him.

“Hey, Mr. Graves?” Olly said, holding his hat in both hands. Fuck, he was such a polite kid. “When you go back, can you give my gal her ring? I know it’s too late, but, I just want to her to know.”

“Always the romantic, this one,” Craster said, shoving him around as they often did in the break room."We can't be askin' for favors like this."

"It's fine," Percival said softly. "I have it with the evidence team. I'll make sure she gets it."

“Ah, what the hell then," Craster said, to the surprise of the others. "My wife and I fought a lot. I think we did that morning too, somethin’ stupid about money or other junk. If you could just tell her it was all my fault, that I screwed up, and,” he stopped, his voice faltering for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Cras,” Lopez muttered as Craster sat down on the table as they all did a million times. “Boss? I know you always told us not to, that it was a bad idea, but Patterson and I – we were together. I miss her, but I’m not ready to see her here. Not yet,” he forced a chuckle. “Look out for her, will you?”

Percival was taken aback. All these grown men, who spent their entire waking hours around him talking work and Quidditch and firewhisky, now wanted nothing but to talk their loved ones once more. They’d give anything to be in Percival’s place and for a minute he actually considered squandering it. It’s as if he learned nothing this whole time. For once he had someone who was probably offering the world everything she owned to see him again.

And he couldn’t wait to see her too.

“I’ll tell them everything,” he said. “I’ll make sure your girls and your families – and the world – know what you did and I’ll do whatever I can to keep them safe. You have my word.”

“You better keep your promise to the dead. We remember.” Lopez joked, giving Percival a final hug before stepping away.

Craster and Olly shook his hand once more before walking away, to the door where they slowly began to fade.

“Wait!” Percival gasped and they all turned. “Is-what’s it like, on the other side?”

“Should we tell ‘em?” Craster smiled but the others just shook their head. “Maybe next time we’ll tell ya. But don’t be returnin’ here before your head’s grey, boss.”

His Aurors waved to him once more before fading into the air, leaving only echoes of their laughter behind and nothing more.

_‘It wasn’t his fault… but he blames himself.’_

That-that wasn’t Tina’s voice. It was someone else, one he knew too well, too long.

_‘Goldstein?’_

It was fading away too. He needed to get out but _how?_

Percival ran through the same door he came through, looking for the lift when he ran headfirst into someone else and threw them both to the floor. A boy, barely filling out his new suit who shied away from Percival’s eyes, just as he did when Percival confronted him in the alley.

“You just missed the others,” Percival said softly, helping him up. The young Auror took his hand but said nothing else. “It was you I saw running earlier, wasn’t it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Why did you run?”

“I don’t belong here,” he said quickly. “I nearly got you killed and now you’re here too. It’s my fault.”

“Fuck, Johan,” Percival breathed. “I’m not dead. Not yet, anyway.”

Johan finally raised his blue eyes up, partially in shock but mostly relieved.

“Grindelwald is a cunning man. He can turn even the best of friends against each other with a single word. I can only imagine what he promised you in exchange for loyalty, but, none of that matters. You had a choice in that alley and you saved my life.”

None of that placated Johan, who shook his head at each of Percival’s words. “Sir, I scouted for that man. I told him where MACUSA was sending Aurors, which secretaries and accountants were the easiest targets. I don’t deserve to wear this suit.”

“Look, Johan, I don’t know much about how death works. I only just got here, but, I know one thing and that is if you weren’t loyal to MACUSA you wouldn’t be standing here with me right now. You’d be, well, wherever the hell the Grindelwald followers go.”

He was still a kid. Sure, he was dressed in a three-piece suit like a man but he was still pouting around. Percival couldn’t blame him; he was no joy to be around in his early twenties either. Insufferable couldn’t even describe it and boy did Phina try.

“I made a lot of mistakes when I was younger. I’m still making them now, but you have to move forward from it. You can’t get stuck in the past. You don’t want to be lurking these halls forever, do you?”

The last words struck Percival like a bell. It was what he was doing wasn’t it? Lamenting the past, caught up in what could’ve been and taking it out on everyone around him. Insufferable indeed; he never outgrew that label.

“My parents will disown me,” he said quietly. “They’ll know I was one of _his_ men.”

He said that last bit with disgust, exactly how Percival liked to hear it. “I don’t see how. As far as the world knows, you died an Auror that day and I’ll make sure they know that,” he continued. Johan sighed, still frustrated, but mellow. “I promise. Really.”

“Thank you, sir. And, I’m still sorry. Is Goldstein alright? Did she make it?”

“She must be. I haven’t seen her,” he said. “If Grindelwald was smarter he’d know she isn’t exactly easy to catch.”

The kid smiled, not knowing the hidden meaning behind his words and for the first time, stood a little prouder, a little stronger. Now this was the Auror he trained.

“I’m trying to get out, to go back,” Percival said, looking to the crazy lift that sat waiting for him. “Do you know how?”

Johan hummed, looking at the same lift. “If I had to guess, you would go back the same way you came. It makes the most sense doesn’t it?”

No, none of this made any sense. Percival took an uneasy step to the lift and took a breath but when he turned back to talk to Johan again he was gone. No sign he had even been there. Fuck, this was creepy – he wanted to go back, he wanted to be with his people. MACUSA should never be empty, not like this, and neither should his life.

He jumped into the lift and watched as the doors creaked themselves closed, locking him in and yanking him down and down, until he heard echoes of Tina’s voice again, calling him, telling him to wake up. It spit him out in the main lobby of all places, where the light was dimming and the air was harder to breathe and he ran. He shot down the hall, where the clock hanging overhead began to groan, threatening to give way. All the pillars – ancient and heavy also began to crack, all looking to block the exits to the streets of New York and keep him in there forever.

No! Percival ran into door, kicked it down and barged in where light flooded him instantly.

_Come on now. Wake up, Percival. Wake up!_

_WAKE UP!_

Percival never expected being alive to hurt.

Dying, yes. In fact, he always imagined it would be quite awful to take his last breath. He never imagined his first would have him bargaining with the devil for more time back in a coma and fuck did he gasp; for air, for water, for anything as the blur of colors danced in his eyes. Something bright and radiant, too bright perhaps, flew out of his vision and through the door. Like magic.

_Of course, like magic, you’re a fucking wizard, Percival._

Yes, he was a wizard. That was magic. He worked with magic, and people, and _fuck, why can’t I sit?_

The door ahead of him flew open, flooding in with more light and sound – too much at once - and he closed his eyes with a groan. Couldn’t the magic people at this magic hospital dim the fucking lights?

“What the hell did you do to me?” Percival growled at the people-shaped blurs. Or, that’s what he wanted to say as he tried, again, to move out of that damn bed but it _hurt_.

“Slow down there, sleeping beauty,” a familiar voice shouted, coming from the same blur pushing him back down on the bed. He wanted to get up, not back down! “I’m not going to kiss you.”

That… it was a joke. A bad joke.

“Jay?” Percival squinted, trying to make sense out the mess and the old man laughed. Yes, he knew that laugh. The same laugh after a curse shrunk him more than a foot and shot his voice up like a fucking elf.

“Unfortunately, not who you were expecting I bet, but you just missed her.”

Her? Her. Percival turned to the empty chair right by his bed and it was impossible to miss the vibrant blue coat hanging there, watching him. Blue coat. Tina. Tina had been there – if she was well enough to pay him a visit then she was alright. She was fine.

“You’re not done healing, not yet. I’m going to need you in bed for a few more weeks-”

A half-choke, half-snort burst from his throat and the old man laughed.

“I can try to shorten it, but the recovery will be a bitch. I’m not going to mince words here – you’re in for the worst nights of your life. Or, we can take it nice and easy-”

“No,” he growled, his fingernail catching on a loose strand of Tina’s coat. “Just get it over with.”

Over with and out of this horrid place. The more breaths he took the more he inhaled that sanitized stink that haunted every hospital stay he was unfortunate enough to be granted and it turned his stomach upside down. Or that was the whole waking up process; hell, he didn’t know. Grindelwald’s prison was almost preferable. Almost.

Jacobs took the coat he was reaching for and covered him with it, like a blanket and Gods did it smell like her. Not just her perfume, but every essence of her. Enticing, strong, adventurous; all of it in one place. Enough to mask the bad memories that the hospital brought.

The old Healer was still cursing him as he pushed the flask to Percival’s lips. The sharp, iron-like smell of blood came first, then the taste and while he choked, he couldn’t afford not to swallow it all and wait.

It was going to be a long night.

\--

On the first night, Percival was sure he had died again. A cold fever took control of his body, twisted him where he sat and mocked him all the same. He was sure that he saw Merlin crawl out of the cabinet, tap him on the head and tell him that the rougarou didn’t bite. _What rougarou_ , Percival turned to ask but the old wizard with his magnificent stars and moons robe poofed into thin air at the slightest noise, leaving him alone again, at least until Grindelwald came from beneath the door and fuck was he upset. Each curse in German shook the walls but the harder Percival tugged at Tina’s coat, the more his tormentor began to fade away into the night. It may as well have been a shield, wrought in goblin gold and reinforced with the most ancient runes.

When he woke up the next morning, soaked in sweat and half-mumbling to himself, he nearly shoved away the next dose and the pitiful Healer trying to bring the flask to his lips. It would hurt, more than the previous night; it would make him question his own sanity, but he needed to finish it. Maybe then the chair next to him would stop being empty.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to be alone.

Percival swallowed down the bitter potion, grasped the weary coat for the protection only it could give, and let his mind take him far, far away from that damn hospital room, until the dreary white walls fell down with a crash, revealing lush grass and dense forests just beyond the lake ahead and the murmurings about his health disappeared, only to be brought back as singing blue jays.

“Much better,” Percival hummed, stepping onto the creaking wooden porch. The sun fell on his cheeks, warm and just right and he closed his eyes. It must’ve been June. “One day. Maybe soon.”

Yes, here he could hide. Just for a bit, until someone woke him up again.

“But not yet.” He mumbled to himself, pulling out his trusty cigarette case. Always stocked.

He lit up a cigarette, sat on the porch and took a breath. It wasn’t as good as the real thing – never was – but it didn’t need to be. Nothing in this reality was ever quite as good, and it wasn’t supposed to be. Otherwise he may never leave.

“You know, I always pictured you as a city boy,” Tina suddenly spoke up, from behind him, and he nearly fell to the floor. “Certainly never expected to see you here.”

This was impossible. This was his own space, carefully crafted after years – it wasn’t supposed to have people. It shouldn’t have people; people were variable, they were living things you could project your own thoughts into. It was dangerous, and he made sure all of his Aurors knew not to put people into their one safe zone.

But Tina was there, wearing a set of baggy pajamas he hadn't seen. She walked down, the wood settling beneath her feet before she reached him and took a seat. Without any regard for his space, she put her legs up, on his lap, and pulled the cigarette dangling from his lips to her own.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

She blew a puff of smoke into his eyes but he couldn’t close them if he tried.

“You’re right,” she shrugged, looking off into the lake as he was just doing. “I should be in the room with you.”

“But you’re not.”

Tina smiled, nudging him with her foot. “Always perceptive Mr. Graves. I’ll be there, in a few days.”

A few days. That may as well have been an eternity. He thought of asking where she was, but it was pointless. This was all in his mind after all and he was quite creative. In the end this Tina would just say whatever it was he wanted.

Still, it didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the company.

Percival took her foot, pushed off the tired old slipper and felt the soft, tender flesh below. He must’ve done something right because her eyes fell shut with a soothing hum.

“Tell me about this place,” she mused. “Why is this special to you?”

“Don’t know about special. Just different.”

“Special enough for you to retreat here. It’s where you came to get away from Grindelwald,” she said with a sly grin when he looked up. “I heard you telling Queenie.”

Merlin, his subconscious was good. Too good. Maybe Grindelwald’s excess torture hadn’t completely hampered him.

“One summer, a good friend invited me and a few others to come here for a few weeks. This cabin is old, remote. No-maj don’t even know this whole damn area exists. They don’t see the lake or the house – just rocks.”

Normally he wouldn’t be too keen on sharing this with people, but hell, he wasn’t really telling anyone anyway, and he had a few hours to burn doing something that didn’t involve just looking down Tina’s cleavage as she relaxed under the sun with him.

“We spent most of our time hiking up whatever trail caught our interest. We’d camp and eat and drink, play stupid pranks on each other. Just boys being boys.”

“No girls Mr. Graves? Now that surprises me.”

She blew another puff of smoke in his face, enough to pull a smile from him. “Not that year, no. But, the following summer most of us had girlfriends so of course we snuck them here.”

Tina looked at him with disbelief. “You _snuck_ them? What, was it forbidden?”

“Our parents were rather traditional,” he managed. “My parents, anyway. They thought I should be spending my summers getting ready for my career, not chasing skirts and walking through woods.”

At the time he hated them for it; thought the Academy was overrated. Then, on his first day in training he got knocked on his ass so hard by a _Petrificus Totalus_ that he nearly swore off anything recreational.

Tina smiled, prodding him in the stomach with her toes. Cute. He squeezed her ankle in turn, yielding a little shiver.

“You lost your virginity here, didn’t you?”

Percival nearly choked on his own tongue. His subconscious had gotten much, much cheekier than he remembered. “I try not to think about it.”

“Too embarrassing?” Tina teased, nudging him with her foot again. “Come on. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Well I was nervous, and the water was freezing. You can imagine what happened.”

“Water? Did you try to do that _there_?” Tina asked, looking at the lake. Oh, she was having a grand old time bringing these memories to light.

“No! Even then I knew better. No, she dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night, vanished both our clothes and jumped in.”

“And you, ever the gentleman, followed her in.”

“Of course,” he said, pulling her legs and yanking her closer. “I tried to spell the water hot but I was so nervous I accidentally burned her instead.”

Tina took the hint and edged her butt over onto his hips, where he stole his cigarette back without complaint. “And she still wanted to sleep with you after that?”

“By some miracle, yes. She had snuck out some covers and hid them by that big tree over there so we could have some privacy away from the house and the others.”

“Was it good?”

“It was memorable,” he corrected as Tina rest her head on his shoulder. It felt nice. It felt safe. “Enough about me. I’m sure you have a wild story or two.”

And she did.

He didn’t know how long they sat there, on the porch overlooking the mountains and birds and occasional deer that hopped into view. Tina, or his projection of her, was not shy about sharing her own embarrassing and terrible sexual escapade and they laughed together at their foolishness and naivete. It was then, as she told him about how she helped her sister sneak out of the Wand Permit Office to meet an old flame that he decided he’d take her here as soon as summer returned. He wanted to hear the real stories she had to tell.

“It’s getting late,” Tina mumbled, sitting up after an eternity against him. “I have to go, and, I suspect you do too.”

“It’s never late here.” Percival argued, looking up at the sun that hadn’t moved an inch.

Tina laughed at that, planting a sweet kiss atop his hair. “I’ll see you later, love, get some rest.”

He reached to take her hand but it faded between his fingers, as did all of her. He tried to fight it, to pull her back but the ground shook below him, yanking him out of his carefully crafted world and back to where something was pulling him home.

The next breath he took was frigid. No more stifling heat, no subtle puffs of smoke from his stolen cigarette. The casual shirt and pants, held up only by a cheap pair of suspenders were gone and he could feel the cold sweat from his recovery clinging to the thin shirt the hospital had gifted him. He was back, and, he wasn’t alone.

“You have some nerve, Val,” she said, the anger in her voice cracking to pieces. “I was about to write your obituary.”

Percival blinked, trying to unblur the woman beside him. Moving still hurt worse than any blasted hangover but at least the fever had evaporated, leaving him soaked through the sheets.

“What would you say?” Percival managed, the words flowing out with cough.

“That our Director of Magical Security was a fool. An idiot who let a maniac drag him into an unknown area, who didn’t call for backup, who could’ve escaped but chose to fight the most dangerous person I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting,” she rambled, taking one of his hands and grasping it in both of hers. “And how I wish he hadn’t because losing my right-hand man isn’t worth it. It never could be.”

She made a noise, one he knew of tears being pulled back, of trying to swallow away the lump in her throat and he squeezed her hand as hard as he could. It was an image he wasn’t used to and if his muscles didn’t ache he would’ve hugged her, decorum and wardrobe be damned. Phina was already dressed impeccably in the dress-suit she used to address the slew of reporters probably just outside that door. The picture of organization, of strength, of a country united. If only the perfect image wasn’t ruined by two wet lines running down her cheek.

“Fuck, Phina I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. For what Grindelwald did, for not fucking noticing and-”

She shook her head, silencing him with a stare. “No. We’re both quite even in that regard so I’ll have none of it. Not from you, not from your team. I want to move ahead.”

“Yes ma’am,” he muttered, drawing a quick little smile from her. “Did you see the Healers?”

“Why? Don’t want to be the only one suffering on a hospital bed?”

“Not one bit,” he scoffed, to her delight. “But, I know what he can do and I know what you feel after it. It changes you.”

He didn’t try to hide his blatant staring at her hands. Tina told him all too well that Grindelwald had subjected her to the same torture. There weren’t any scars, none he could see anyway, and he hoped the madman had spared her from that crushing curse.

“I saw the Healers. Not for as long as they wanted – I’m an Auror in spirit as you’ve said. But I saw them. I’ll be fine.”

She wiped away any signs she was capable of emotions with one quick brush of her hand as she looked to the door. Those reporters wanted answers, they wanted someone to blame. Their world had just been ravaged by Grindelwald for the second time in the same month. This was after he and everyone else at MACUSA had reassured the world that they were safe now, that their Director of Magical Security was fine and healthy and that Grindelwald was thousands of miles away about to be locked up for the rest of his life. If only there had been a shred of truth to that statement. Heads would have to roll at some point, and, knowing Phina, she would be the first at the chopping block, and eventually, him. It wasn’t fair. It never would be.

“We have a lot of work to do,” he said, pulling her out of the same cloud of negativity he had just emerged from. “The public needs reassurance that their government is still safe, that their people can be trusted.”

“We’ll need to review every MACUSA employee. Starting with the Aurors and high-ranked members, work our way down,” she continued, rehearsed. So, she had thought of this already. “There’s not many people left we can trust. We’re starting from scratch.”

“We also have the prisoners that need to be questioned. Has DeSoto talked?”

“That rotten garbage of a man? No, not a word and if he opens his mouth I’ll pull out his tongue. I think he’s waiting for you.”

“I wonder if he knows I won’t be any kinder,” Percival mused. “Do you have tabs on Gnarlak?”

“Two Aurors on patrol at all times around him. Why?”

“I don’t think he’s blameless here, on any of this. Two of Grindelwald’s spots are owned by him and his people. If you have Aurors tailing him, it’s a good bet he knows. We need a third-”

Phina raised her hand up, cutting him off. “Consider it done, but, I need you to rest right now. I have your case papers in my office. This can wait.”

“This can never wait,” he growled. “I can help, you know. If I’m out of this damn bed.”

She glared at him, the fire in her eyes fueled not by annoyance but the warmth of an old friend. “You’re staying here until the Healers say otherwise.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

She didn’t budge. “One more day here, Percival, then you can rest from home. You’ve already made it through four and if we’re going to tackle the hell Grindelwald brought us, we both need our strength. I won’t make the same mistake as last time.”

This was bullshit. She’d be navigating the next few days without him and she needed to be in bed as much as he did. Hell, as soon as she left he’d get up off the bed, find some clothes and get back to MACUSA even if it killed him.

“Percival. _Val._ If not for yourself then at least for me, as a belated Christmas gift.”

_Belated Christmas gift?_ He’d been out for four days which meant-

He hadn’t even bought Tina a gift! Or Queenie, or any of his Aurors, or Nell-

“I thought you didn’t care for it. Not anymore.”

“People change.” Percival said, thinking of a very particular dark haired Auror.

She got up, turning her attention to the table beside him, now filled to the edges with colorful boxes and cigarettes and other trinkets.

Gifts? For him?

“I couldn’t believe it either. I suppose something about your Aurors carrying your half-dead body here has its own magical effects.”

Percival squinted again, barely making out a pile of colors just beside her, on his bedside table. There were at least three different cigarette cases, all metal, all the same type he carried. Full, he hoped. A big bottle of Ogden’s, no doubt from Bob himself poked out from the back but just the sight of it made his stomach churn. Nell left him a brand-new quill, its brilliant, long hawk feather standing tall amongst the gifts and he made a mental note to get the boy something decent this year. On the corner there was even a card, featuring a stick figure man that looked surprisingly like Percival falling off a mountain over and over again with the words _‘stop getting yourself killed’_ on the bottom and he knew immediately which Healer left that one. And, somewhere in the middle, a pink box. An obnoxiously pink box.

“The younger Goldstein left this for you this morning,” she said, handing the perfumed pinkness to him. Not the perfume he coveted, but sweet all the same. “I made sure to test it for poison or any other curses. I wasn’t exactly sure if she was approved, after all.”

Homemade doughnuts. At least half a dozen, some with chocolate, others with just powdered sugar and… the particularly chubby one he had his eye on, with cream inside had a peculiar bite-shaped hole.

“I’m so fortunate to have you risk your life for me.” Percival said, not even attempting to hide the sarcasm from his tongue.

She patted him on the shoulder, taking the rest of that doughnut that he still had his eye on and eating it right in front of him.

“Save that glare for your Aurors. You know these are my favorites.”

_And mine_ , he almost grumbled, as loud as his stomach. The only thing stopping him from shoving all of that down his throat was the little professionalism he tried to maintain.

He looked back to the stand, to what else they managed to get him when he noticed something else leaning there. Something he hadn’t noticed before.

A cane. Black, except for some silver in the handle, like a bigger version of his wand.

“It’s for you,” she said softly, as if it could somehow soften the blow that was about to come. “Your knee was exposed to the curse for too long. I called in every expert on curse damage in the world, Val, they tried. They all tried.”

Fuck. A cane. How the hell was he supposed to chase scum through the city while limping the whole way? He wasn’t, that was the obvious answer. Even using his wand at the same time would require training and time – both things neither of them had very much of. Those reporters would see him walking out with a cane and they would have a field day with it.

He picked up the doomed object, wanting to hate it even though it did nothing to him when a note fell from the handle and onto his lap.

_‘Mr. Graves,_

_It’s not as bad as it seems. You’ll get used to it._

_T. Patterson’_

He re-read the note and took a long breath before looking back at the cane. He thought of Lopez, in his dream – or reality, he couldn’t tell – and how worried he was for her. His gal had gotten dealt a bad hand and lost her leg in a mission that never should’ve happened, but she was moving on. If she wasn’t sitting around sulking then he certainly had no excuse to. If they ever let him out of his bed, he owed her a very overdue visit.

Percival sighed and put the cane back, a little closer to his bed.

“I have something for you.” Picquery said, flicking her wand with all the grace she bragged about since they were kids. The little motions, smooth and short, pulled a thick piece of newspaper from that morning out of the depths of her purse and onto his lap.

“I see the budget cuts have flowed down to personnel.” Percival mocked as the ratty paper unfurled and he quickly shut up at the headline.

_American Auror Takes Europe by Storm: Delivering Grindelwald to Azkaban_

And in the front, a near-full page picture of Tina, standing in front of King’s Cross Station with Bob and his Aurors with the light of a million flashes going off. She was shaking hands and talking - stories of their journey he bet – but without any of the shyness he often saw plague his star Auror. No, this was Tina completely comfortable in her skin and what she accomplished, and that confidence shined bright in her smile, even despite the sling that captured her arm.

_Beautiful_ , he thought.

“I thought you’d be angrier that I sent her away so soon. I had a whole speech prepared.”

“No,” Percival smiled, for once not even slightly worried about his star Auror, his _Assistant Director_. “She’s doing just fine.”

Picquery snapped her fingers, the little sound yanking out a small mirror from her bag not unlike the one Tina had given him. She dropped it onto his lap before walking to the door.

“Ten minutes, Val. You can consider _this_ my Christmas gift.”

Percival stared at his own reflection and when the door clicked behind her, he found himself out of breath.

Did she know about the cane? He was a mess - he looked like a mess. No, he needed more preparation, a shave, a damn bath, he couldn't just call her like _this_.

Fuck. Ten minutes. Percival closed his eyes and held the little mirror tight.

“Tina?” He called timidly, more reminiscent of pre-teen Percival rather than the middle-aged man sitting at the hospital.

His tired face slowly unfurled, blending with the image of the walls and light in a hypnotizing circle before settling into murky darkness surrounded by voices and music. The walls suddenly shifted, getting lighter and bluer until he could see nothing but a high, golden ceiling.

“Of course, Minister, but if you’ll just give me a moment.”

The mirror turned, and he saw her – with a glass of champagne on her lips, a black gown he would sell both his knees to see fully and in make-up he never saw in the office. She caught his eyes and immediately dropped the full glass that he heard shatter on the floor a moment later, followed by worried whispers of unwelcome suitors asking her if she was alright.

“Just a momentary _distraction_ , sirs, excuse me.”

The ceiling moved behind her and the lights dimmed the closer she got to somewhere more private. The sounds continued, following her wherever they went but it didn’t distract him; nothing could. When she stopped and faced the mirror again, her mascara was slowly on its way to being ruined.

“You’re an awful man, Percival Graves,” Tina scolded. “Every day when the President called me I thought it was to tell me that you didn’t make it and you dare call on me while smiling like a buffoon!”

“Tina, I-”

“Fuck,” Tina cursed, surprising both of them but there was no lying in her eyes, not about what her words truly meant anyway. “I hate you. I _hate_ you.”

She pressed her fingers against the mirror, to where his cheeks and eyebrows should be and if he closed his eyes he could almost feel the gentle caress that they shared on these cold, dark nights.

“I know,” he said softly. “But I needed it to be over. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if he was still out there, Tina, I had to.”

“Well it’s over now. Bastard’s stewing with dementors, I put him in myself.”

“Is that your way of saying you’re not saving my life anymore? Pity, you’re quite good at it.”

That drew a smile from her but he knew the discussion wasn’t that simple and Tina knew it too. “Not all bludgers are worth taking, you know.”

Ah, fuck. If anyone knew how to tear him in half, it was her. He pressed his thumb against her image, trailing up her neck where none of her dress crept to. It wasn’t warm, it wasn’t her and he would’ve given anything to have her on his arm at whatever posh event this was. Going to them alone was a bore, but with a skilled date, it was more than doable. Really, he just wanted to be next to her.

“I want to see you.”

She tried not to look disappointed at his simple request but failed miserably.

“A few more days,” Tina sighed and he heard the weariness in her voice for the first time that night. “I left Paris yesterday; Picquery suggested I visit with their Auror team.”

“How did you like it?”

For a moment, Tina’s eyes glazed over, deep in memories and she sighed again. “It’s something else. We stopped at this bakery and you should have seen the breads and the pastries. They even had chocolate sculpted to look like wands and cauldrons. I wish Queenie could’ve seen it.”

Tina continued, excitement building over every detail of her trip. She told him of the secret restaurant hidden at the top of the Eiffel Tower, away from no-maj eyes and even though he’d been there twice with Ogden he didn’t dare speak up. He didn’t want her to stop.

“…and so far that’s it,” she said, playing with the pendant on her neck. She took a long look back at him through the little mirror and he felt what she was about to say. “I miss you.”

“Soon,” he said, putting his Director hat back on before his heart took control and got them both in trouble. “Finish your assignment. I’ll be here.”

Someone knocked on the door and he had a sneaking suspicion that his ten minutes were up.

“Do you have to go?”

“Regrettably,” Percival said. “Not by choice.”

“It’s alright,” Tina said, wiping her eyes once again. “I should probably go back too. The Minister’s quite taken with me; or at least with the stories Bob’s telling him. The man insists that I smacked Grindelwald upside the head and now it’s spreading like wildfire.”

Picquery opened the door, her eyes going immediately to the mirror he held as more precious than anything else he owned. If she came any closer he would whack her with the cane; that’d be a good use for it. He mouthed a quick ‘ _it hasn’t been ten minutes yet’_ but she shrugged at his complaint.

“Percival,” Tina called, pulling his attention back to her and the party raging on behind her. “Get some rest. I don’t want to hear about you returning to the office before me.”

Hm.

Percival looked at the bedside table that could be made into a desk with a little bit of work. His books could be brought in, some fresh parchment and a quill.

She didn’t want him going to the office, but she never said he couldn’t work _and_ as he taught her – the subtleties matter.

“And no, no working from your bed either, Director,” Tina added. “Rest. I mean it.”

Percival stirred, cheeks warming in an unmistakable wave of embarrassment, but he agreed. Somehow, in the string of bad luck Grindelwald brought he’d found himself a partner who knew him more than his own family.

Maybe one more day wouldn't be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real reunion next chapter, I promise!
> 
> As a quick refresher if you've been following this story a while:
> 
> Nell is Percival's assistant that he normally didn't treat so kindly. He's working on mending that.  
> Lopez is the Auror killed in his own apartment - it was his body they found. Tamara Patterson is the Auror that was with Percival when he was discovered and she nearly lost her leg in the explosion. Her sister knows Queenie, and works at MACUSA.  
> Craster and Olly were protecting the cabinet when Grindelwald as Picquery came through and killed them.  
> Johan was the young Auror who warned Graves of danger, unwittingly putting himself in line of a nasty Avada Kedavra. He's the only Grindelwald follower that Percival forgives.
> 
> Percival is convinced his talk with Tina by the lake was just a dream... was it? I guess we'll find out!


	30. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A much needed reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes it has been a while and I'm sorry for the wait :( Last chapter is almost done at least and will be posted this week. Basically had a real-life disaster happen that kept me from doing much of anything fun, including writing. Glad to be back though.

There was something wrong with his tie.

He’d adjusted it for the fourth time already and it still wasn’t centered, choosing to edge a bit to the left. The left! So unprofessional and very much the picture of a slacker. He nudged it, just a bit, tightening it around his neck until it was-

“Perfect,” he whispered to the mirror, nervously running a hand through his hair again but instead of straightening any errant strands, one fell loose. He brushed it back and by the time he brought his hand down his tie had shifted fucking _left_ again, and _fuck_! That’s to say nothing of the bushy mess his stubble had grown into and that he was utterly incapable of shaving with a steady hand. Fuck. He sighed again. “Don’t screw this up, old man.”

The door behind him opened, and through the reflection he managed a thin-lipped smile at the blonde witch who came through with all the same regard her sister was known for.

“I could smell you from across the hall,” she said with a smile that could brighten up the day. “Oh honey, there’s nothing wrong with your tie. Didn’t I size ya up right?”

“Yes, but – it’s the tie. It’s crooked – it’s-”

He finished with a sigh, trying to adjust it again but fumbling and making it skew _right_. Right!

“Alright, a couple of things, ok?” She started, settling both hands on his shoulders before fussing with his tie. “First, you look absolutely dashing. There’s not a woman alive who won’t swoon when you pass.”

_I only want one woman to swoon._

“I know, I know,” she responded with a grin. “That’s the second part. She’s never cared about how your suit is pressed or how your tie is centered. She cares about the man beneath the suit. Got it?”

Now he couldn’t help a smile. “Yes.”

“And, remember what I told ya. That stuff with your knee is not a deal breaker. It’s not.”

“But-”

“But she loves you. Look, Mr. Graves, I’ve been in my sister’s head since we was kids, I know what goes on in there when she’s in love. A rampaging dragon won’t keep her from you right now. Alright?”

Percival exhaled as deeply as he could, but it did not calm his heart. It still kicked against his chest as each second ticked closer to Tina seeing him walking with a cane. Like an old man. Like a cripple. He wanted to be strong for her – for his team, and a cane, well – it wasn’t. He tried to make walking with it something dignified but he just looked weak. Just another reminder to everyone of the horrors they went through in the past few weeks.

The papers would have a run with it. He looked down at his bed, where he’d left a copy of each major newspaper in America and they all talked about him and Tina. Hell, it was _all_ they talked about. _Forbidden relationships abound in MACUSA_ , read the Chicago Blood Moon. _Lovers brought together by evil, torn apart by law_ was another favorite headline, courtesy of the Atlanta Boggarts. Every single one romanticizing their relationship while simultaneously dooming it in the same paragraph. What a fucking world.

“Hey, look at me,” Queenie patted his chest, pulling him out of his mind for a second. “The folks at the press will say what they want, they always have. You go out there and you be you, alright?”

“That’s never exactly worked in the past,” Percival drawled. “Not with those reporters.”

“Except now you’re a changed man, aren’t ya? Don’t show them Mr. Graves, MACUSA’s youngest Director. Show them Mr. Graves, the man who didn’t just survive – he _won_.”

Won _?_ Percival felt his eyebrows shoot so far up they should’ve exited his forehead.

“Just think about that for a bit,” she encouraged, giving him a final tap before backing away. “You’re not some dyin’ old man. You’re Percival Graves, and my sister will be lookin’ for MACUSA’s most powerful man when she arrives here on New Years. So, go get her!”

Percival looked at the mirror one more time and forced a smile.

At least his tie wasn’t crooked anymore.

“How can I ever thank you, Queenie?”

“Oh stop it, you’ve already done so much! For Tina, for me and Jacob-”

Percival quickly put a finger to his lips and they both shot a worried look at the door. “It’s the least I could do. His ancestry records should be in the archive by Monday. Then, it’s up to you two.”

Even though she had her hand on the door, ready to leave, Queenie darted back and threw her arms around him with a hug rivaling her sister’s in its genuine warmth. All of this; the numerous gifts waiting for him on his bedside table, the food, the tears; it was all so much more than it appeared. For once, in a very long time he didn’t just have co-workers to protect with life and limb, he had something else – a family. In the end, Grindelwald had accidentally given him far more than he had taken.

He thanked Queenie once more, for the food, for the clothes that he couldn’t believe she sized perfectly, and for the support. It was unbelievable to think that when he hired her as a favor to Tina she would’ve become one of his biggest supporters.

She was barely out of the room when the door swung open again. That was perhaps the most frustrating part about staying in a damn hospital room – no fucking privacy. Healers, Phina, Aurors wanting to apologize for the twentieth time, more Healers and their apprentices to study the fascinating case of Percival Graves, and even owls at the window miraculously finding him to deliver much overdue Heat-Charm bills and an odd subscription to the Weekly Witch. That one was still a mystery.

This time though, he was at least half-expecting Smith, with a very special object in hand.

“I’m not taking the damn portkey.”

The black cane shook under his hand but it did not keep him from standing. Smith did not hide his stare at his unsteady gait; he never hid much of anything.

“But sir, they pose a risk. After everything that’s happened, after what you’ve been through-”

“The country needs to know its leaders are not hiding,” Percival drawled, straightening his tie just a hair to the left again. “You can tell her that.”

His Senior Auror didn’t try to hide his frustration, one of his more redeeming qualities in recent events. These hothead Aurors, fierce in the battlefield and a liability in any undercover missions, were doing wonders in a post-Grindelwald world. Once upon a time it was only Tina with her heart on her sleeve. Now he had another in his hands but, as with Tina, he didn’t intend to let him go so easily.

“Straighten up, Auror. We have to put our people above all and right now they’re scared. If they can’t count on us then we have no right to stand here. Don’t ever forget that.”

The door opened, to an equally frustrated looking President but Percival did not bow out.

“You’re still here. Of course you’re still here.”

“He won’t need it, ma’am,” Smith said, the defiance still hot in his eyes. “I’ll accompany him out.”

Phina shook her head, a sight he had become quite accustomed to. “He gave you the whole speech about duty and honor didn’t he?”

His star Auror turned as red as a tomato and he knew the look he gave his old friend must have burnt her from inside out. Smith, torn between the two like a child of divorce turned to her with a plea on his tongue.

“Don’t answer that,” she spat before turning back to Percival. “So you’re going out there, then? There’s a mob, you know. Every dirty tabloid in this country wants to hear from you and you’re just going to waltz out there to their delight.”

“Maybe a waltz will be a little harder with the cane, but otherwise, yes, that’s right.”

She was doing all she could not to strangle him and throw his withered corpse into the Department of the Others. If only she knew that the whole show only made it all the sweeter for him to rebel when he could. “You’ll still need the portkey. How else are you getting home, without a wand?”

“Don’t remind me,” he spat. “Is Jonkers open today?”

“No, sir,” Smith said, from a forgotten place behind the bickering heads of MACUSA. He handed the masked object to Percival with glee, happy to be rid of his one major task for the day. “He’s on vacation for the rest of the week. One of the Chicago guys tried this morning and no luck, had to go to Miss Violetta.”

Damn. He wanted a wand, but he wanted a familiar wand. There was no issue with anything Violetta produced; in fact the seasoned witch was more than capable of rolling out wands of immense power, requiring the most stable hands to control but it wasn’t what he needed. He needed his Wampus core. Sure, steady, calculating. He’d never tried a wand that felt more at home.

Just then the door opened again and his Healer poked his head in, shoulders slumping at seeing Percival standing there.

“What the hell, Perce,” he sighed, half-looking to the President. “He didn’t take the portkey. Why did I know he wouldn’t take it?”

“Because he was born a stubborn old man, and he will die a stubborn old man.”

“Please,” Percival scoffed. “I’m shit at dying, Phina. You know that.”

She cursed him again, along with his father, grandfather and the entire Graves line. Even Smith wished he could spontaneously apparate away at some of the more colorful language she didn’t bother hiding. Jacobs rolled his eyes, stepping in with a handful of bandages that he pushed into Percival’s chest.

“This is for the pain. Change it at least once a day. Do you remember the incantation?”

“You’ve been muttering it three times a day. I think I’ve got it.”

“No need to be a smart-ass,” he said. “The blonde took your gifts and such, said she’d send them to you.”

Smith perked up at the name. If only the boy knew she was already smitten with a no-maj. “Queenie?”

“Yes, she’s on the short list,” Phina confirmed with an air of disdain. “Alright Graves. If you want to get yourself murdered so quickly, the floor is yours. I’ll make sure Ms. Goldstein is aware of your lack of self-preservation.”

“I think she knows,” Percival said with a small chuckle. If that was threat, she didn’t know their relationship very well. “Come, let’s go. This little room is suffocating enough alone and with you lot here it certainly isn’t any better.”

And it wouldn’t improve outside. Reporters were annoying enough when they flooded crime scenes, with their large cameras and self-writing quills, poking their head where they weren’t supposed to and sometimes endangering an investigation. Now they would all be standing there, ready to find fault with everything he’d done in the past week but if he didn’t do this now, the headlines would be worse. He could see them now – _Director of Magical Security cowers from responsibilities_. He shuddered at the idea; that after all the horrors he faced in the past week that he would run away from _this_.

He stepped outside, to the quiet hall still heavily guarded by half a dozen Aurors. They flanked him as he walked, a protective shield he wouldn’t need but that he welcomed all the same.

His cane clacked against the tile, a heavier, harder sound than all the footsteps behind it and a constant reminder of the costs of this war. He put a hand in his pocket, where his wand should be but found instead the scroll of parchment with his memorial speech to his fallen Aurors. The ceremony would be on New Years day, but he closed his hand around the paper regardless.

When his Aurors pushed open the double doors leading to the outside a flood of lights blinded him. There was indeed a sea of people, all slaves to the note-taking quills floating above them as they fired question after question.

“Are the rumors true? Are you seeing one of your own Aurors?”

“Can you even claim that we’re safe from Grindelwald?”

“How many more Aurors have to die before you people get it right?”

They started and they never paused, even as he tried to open his mouth to speak. Some of the ruder ones tried to push themselves to the front, nearly toppling the others and he saw his Aurors rush forward to hold back the crowd. This was insanity. If they kept this up, someone would get hurt and the headlines would be even more damaging to his career. Smith pushed one of the burlier reporters back, his camera falling and shattering on the ground and he saw the tip of his wand glowing red.

Percival couldn’t wait – he gripped his cane and slammed it down with a bang that shook the entire reception, cracking the tile below it all the way to the wall.

Everyone stopped. Another single camera flash went off and no others.

“This is exactly what he wants,” Percival sighed. All of the self-writing quills began scratching their parchment furiously. “Our enemies thrive on dividing us. The only reason that beast was able to get that far was by turning us against each other, by breeding hate and animosity where there wasn’t any. I lost four good men recently and not a moment has gone by where I haven’t felt their loss.”

Percival paused, feeling his voice weaken but he cleared his throat. He couldn’t stop.

“With cooperation from the Ministry we have taken Grindelwald to Azkaban, where he’s been tried for his crimes and declared guilty by his peers. However, it may not be over,” he said to a few surprised gasps. He raised his hand before any question could erupt, and they obeyed. “His followers will not be easily deterred. Not here, not in Europe, or anywhere else in the world. Which is why we’ll continue to work tirelessly into the new year to squelch any rebellion from his ilk. You may see me walking out of here, tired, and carrying this new cane but rest assured that I remain unbroken.”

“What about the Obscurus weapon?” A young reporter, clad in unassuming hand-me down robes asked from the corner. “Is it true Grindelwald is still after it?”

“There is currently no indication that he’s after one, and certainly not from Azkaban.”

A heavily bearded man behind spectacles that nearly took up his face raised his hand next. “Why Azkaban? If MACUSA can’t keep him jailed then what faith does the American wizarding community have that you can keep anyone behind bars?”

“Frankly, Mr. Mole, because I couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore,” Percival said with a small laugh and the reporters fell suit. Easy. “But Mr. Grindelwald is not an American citizen, and, despite his many crimes to this country and to me personally, we have agreed with the extradition conditions set forth by the German Ministry and sent him to his fate. He will not be tormenting us again.”

For a brief, but oh so very brief moment they were silent and he let himself believe it was over. Oh, but it was never so quick with these people and their quills rapidly scratching away every word of his. Soon enough, a woman Percival would someday have called a bombshell – even in spite of her sneer - raised her hand.

“Can you even guarantee that?”

Percival raised his hand, still covered in Grindelwald’s scars up to the light where they could clearly see the mark. It had aged considerably since he last remembered it, but it was still there and a part of him knew it would always be.

A million more camera flashes went off but he felt nothing.

“If he ever has the poor judgement to put a toe back in this country, I will take every measure necessary to put him down. And this time, there will not be an extradition.”

They all roared to life again, with a million more questions but he was done. With a deep breath, Percival stepped forward, and the ocean of people began to part. He was almost done; almost out of there and back to whatever was left of his house when a small question caught his ears and forced him to turn.

“Is it true that Miss Goldstein-”

“Miss Goldstein is an asset to our team, and her cooperation was integral in capturing Grindelwald and his followers-”

“Did she save your life?”

Percival tried not to show his smile. “In more than one way.”

“What are you going to do when she leaves MACUSA?”

The question stopped him mid-step and he couldn’t help but look down at the young reporter, holding an actual quill in his hand as opposed to the more expensive ones of his colleagues. He’d never seen him at press conferences before, and if it wasn’t for the shiny ‘New York Ghost’ badge poking out from his chest he would’ve just ignored the question.

The reporter, noticing Percival’s confused stare pulled out a copy of that morning’s edition.

_American Auror Offered Job of a Lifetime at the Ministry of Magic_

At that moment, the world around him fell away. The noise, the flashes, the rush of his Aurors to his side. There was only a dull pounding on his head, ticking away with each heartbeat, holding him to that spot and to the article he couldn’t bear to read but couldn’t stop either.

Right there, on the front page of the paper, was Tina in her little cloche hat that hid most of her face. It was a little blurry but no, that was certainly her, shaking hands with the Minister of Magic.

_‘Sources close to MACUSA indicate that Miss Goldstein was instrumental in the defeat of Gellert Grindelwald after she allegedly stood in front of none other than the Killing Curse to protect acting Director, Mr. Percival Graves, only living heir to the Graves family.’_

Instrumental? Hell, she may as well have done everything. Percival was merely decorative at that point.

_‘When asked about the pending job offers from the Ministry of Magic and the Dutch Parliament of Magic, Miss Goldstein declared no preference but it was impossible for the young witch to hide the glee in her eyes at the prospects. Current President and Head of State at MACUSA, Seraphina Picquery declined to comment on the possibility of losing her up and coming talent.’_

More people were speaking now and the room had suddenly become much brighter and hotter than he remembered it. Unbearably hot. He fidgeted with his tie, to the right, the left and any which fucking way but it was choking him alive. Yet, all he could do was search the crowd for his dear old friend, to the truth she must’ve known but hadn’t told him but she wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere.

_‘According to Miss Goldstein herself, she will be making this fated decision tomorrow. There are no news on how her current superior and Director of Magical Security, Percival Graves, will react to these recent developments but one can only pity the predicament of these alleged lovers.’_

Ah, she was deciding soon. Of course. Pending job offers. Well, that wasn’t surprising. Tina was a fantastic Auror; always had been since he recruited her. There was no other person in his life that he could name as being more deserving of a chance for more experience, more money. She had deserved it for a while now. It was only a matter of time before her peers began to recognize her talents. Even if those peers were a full ocean away.

He was being ridiculous. These were phenomenal news and he should be happy for her.

Percival folded the paper, tucked it inside a coat pocket he never used, and turned his attention back to the crowd awaiting his response. Smith, watching the whole thing unfold, snuck behind him with one apology after the other, but he shrugged him off. He shrugged them all off. Without another word, he found the front door and the portkey point before any more damn pictures could be taken.

Outside, a storm brewed.

\--

There wasn’t much left for him to call ‘home’. Some pillars still stood the test of time, a testament to the magic used to build the place but otherwise it was a pile of rubble rapidly sinking beneath the ice and snow that came to reclaim it. It was one of the last things that Percival had called his own and Grindelwald made sure that too was destroyed. He must’ve seen that Percival was near death but he still found the energy to send a couple of well-placed spells this way.

What a cunt.

Percival walked through the front door. Or, where the front door was. He’d run through that door so many times as a kid, usually happy to be away from the organized chaos inside even if it meant going back to school. It didn’t matter how many times Mrs. Bullstrode, with her neck-fat hanging out of her collar, yelled at him in Charms class, or how he nearly blew up the castle in Potions, one thing was always certain – Ilvermorny was _fun_. It was the closest thing to a home.

MACUSA was a close second. It wasn’t just his workplace, it was the building that truly sculpted him into the man he was. He was cocky coming out of school, even a little arrogant during training, but it was all short lived. MACUSA was there for him when he lost the last of his family, and what felt like the last vestige of his humanity too.

But not this. These halls, old and historic, never held quite the same pull. This was his house. It was not his home.

“Percival? Is that your poor choice of hair style I see from over here?”

He couldn’t help but grin at the rough voice across the hall – one of the only paintings to still be on a wall.

Shit. Percival rushed to pick up each of the fallen frames, brushing away the snow as he tried to place them back where they belonged. There wasn’t much wall left but he fit what he could. Uncles and aunts, great-grandparents and forgotten relatives of another age all cheered at being back up. Especially his mother.

“You’re back,” she said with relief, her eyes wetting like they often did when she was alive. She pushed her hand up, against the painting and Percival did the same. “She brought you back.”

“She did,” he said. “There was never any doubt she would.”

The door behind her opened and he knew who was next to the reunion.

“Percival. You have a cane now? Mercy Lewis and an _unkempt beard_.” He said the last bit with as much disdain as when Percival told them he was joining the Quidditch team as a Beater.

He looked down to the black cane. He’d almost forgotten about it.

“Shush!” His mother said, smacking his father in the chest so that his monocle fell and crashed out of sight. “This is the first time you see him since your little tiff and _this_ is what you bring up?”

“Don’t be so sensitive. It’s not a criticism, it’s merely an observation.” He justified but Percival knew the man enough to know when it was both. In death as in life, some people never changed.

“It’s a gift, from the world’s most dangerous criminal in over four-hundred years. Jailed, might I add.”

“Of course, he is,” his father smiled. “Never doubted you, Percival. Not once.”

If only he knew how little he contributed to Grindelwald’s capture. There were a few ladies far more deserving of credit, and when the time came he would let him know. For now, he had someone else to talk to. Someone he had avoided as much as he could.

“Gondulphus,” he greeted, and the older man stood. His portrait, the only life-sized one in the house had been intimidating enough as a boy, and it still brought him a chill now as a man. “Keeping order?”

“As much as our bloodline will allow,” he sighed, stepping into the light and making his scars impossible to miss. Still, he never looked away. “I trust that you’ve received my message?”

He heard it all right. At first he thought it was just fevered hallucinations from an overactive imagination, but when the information about Mr. Kowalski proved to be true, well, he didn’t second guess the rest of the information Tina humored him with. He still couldn’t believe she turned a boy into a frog though – and she said she _liked_ him?

“Percival? Do I need to-”

“No, sir. Message came across quite clearly.”

“And?”

Percival tried not to look confused, but even as a painting Gondulphus looked right through him. “Sir?”

“What are you going to do about it?”

He was going to step aside and let Tina live her life. If she decided that her life was better spent in Holland, hunting down criminals in that part of the world then he would have no say in it. The thought of it hurt. Hell, it was a damn knife through his heart but in the end he would be happier knowing she was living her dream. He took too long anyway.

“We’ll see,” was the answer he shortened that thought to. Gondulphus frowned, somehow making all of his scars uglier in the process. “It’s complicated.”

“Love isn’t complicated, Perce. People are complicated. Not love. Have you told her?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve made my intentions quite clear.”

Not in a fancy restaurant after an equally decorated dessert but he did, but he meant it. It’s not as if they had that many opportunities to talk about the future – not with Grindelwald breathing down their cloaks. It was just a turbulent sea of assumptions that, for once, he didn’t know how to navigate.

Neither did his ancestor, who let out a heavy breath at Percival’s response – as much as a clump of paint could breathe anyway. “I do not profess to know everything about women, or about love, but I do know this. When she thought, even for a moment, that you’d left this world, I saw the light leave her eyes as sure as blowing out a candle. Perhaps do a little more than telling her next time, hm?”

Percival clutched his cane as if he would fall. He tried to call back Gondulphus but he retreated, off the frame and somewhere else entirely. Once again he was left to stew with his thoughts.

At least, until a curious owl swept over the gaping hole in the ceiling. Not just any owl; this was a horned owl and should never be this close to New York, not at this time of year. The owl, just as angry as it looked, landed on the other side of the window – on the outside – even despite the glaring holes everywhere. At least _something_ still had a sense of decorum around him.

“Alright, I’m coming.” Percival drawled, reaching for his cane. The bird tapped against the glass again with renewed vigor and Percival cursed it under his breath.

The window opened without a fuss and he made a note of the lack of security around his house. It shouldn’t be that easy for him to get to the outside, not after the unabashed betrayal they all faced from their blonde nightmare but hell, all the wards were probably gone. Just one more thing to add to his to-do list.

With a hoot, the owl handed him the envelope before leaping back to the skies, but Percival didn’t close the window, not right away. It was nice to pretend that his home wasn’t destroyed for a minute, to sense a little bit of normalcy in a month that had been anything but.

He sat back down on the only chair with four legs and looked at his delivery. Whoever wrote it to him completely misspelled his name as ‘Craves’ and he rolled his eyes. They hadn’t even bothered writing him a formal letter and when he emptied the envelope, a hawk feather fell into his hand. A light feather, heavy with magic and _he should not grab it but_ -

\--

He was too old for this shit.

If someone wanted to kidnap him, they could at least have the decency to do it at wand-point, and stuff him into a bag or a waiting carriage. That’s how they used to do it anyway; the crime bosses of days past. There was at least some finesse, some chance to have a decent conversation. But this? It was just rude at this point.

“Damn,” he growled, turning onto his back and onto a hell of a lot of light. He could feel every joint and bone cracking at his poor decisions, but he needed to get up. “If there’s someone here you better fucking show yourself.”

Silence.

No cackling laugh, no witty comment. Just, squawking and snarling. A lot of snarling.

Percival blinked once, twice, to find a pissed off wolf looking at him from the other side of the little wooden cabin. It released a half-bark, half-yelp and took a charging step that was not meant to be just a warning.

Alright. Fuck. Deep breath.

Hm. A very dry deep breath.

“Involuntary transport through a portkey breaks at least three separate laws, Madam Wolfe,” he grumbled, trying to find his feet. “Do you even have permits for those Thunderbirds?”

The black wolf seemed to grin at him, rising on its hind legs and shedding off the shaggy fur that disappeared into the air until a grizzled smile greeted him.

“I thought that thirty years would change you, Director.”

“If you think my willingness to enforce laws can change because of a few newspaper headlines, you’re quite mistaken.”

She, on the other hand, hadn’t changed a bit. Those curious eyes followed him as he stood, examining every detail of his cane, of his now frazzled hair, and, inevitably his gait. Shikoba Wolfe was gifted with the kind of sight that took most Aurors a decade to learn properly, and she wasn’t afraid to use it. She never had been, and, it made sense. Matching people with complicated personalities to wands with even more finicky needs wasn’t for the faint of heart, and she had never gotten a match wrong before. There was a reason she was still standing, this many years later, and it wasn’t just a good set of genes.

“I’d offer you some tea, but I don’t think you’d be interested.”

“You’re quite correct. I’m far more interested in why the hell-”

She turned and left. Without a warning. Oh for fuck’s sake.

Indeed, nothing had changed in nearly thirty years.

There was nothing left to do but follow her, past the twisting, endless shelves of wand woods and cores, and some poorly labeled potions ingredients that weren’t completely legal. He knew where this was going – to the small room in the back, hidden behind an old ceremonial curtain that had successfully kept intruders out since before he was a boy. Anyone running in without her express permission would simply run out to the outside – about a thousand feet above ground. They would land safely, of course, but the resulting trauma and their wonderful stories of pants-shitting fear kept any new wanderers from trespassing.

He couldn’t say he hated her methods. He may just ask her for more details on the charm.

Percival pulled back the curtain and took a breath before taking a step back into this place. Thirty years had done nothing to change the scent of old wood creaking under his steps, nor did he ever expect it to. There were windows everywhere, in every shape and size, and even the floor. The room was more window than wood to be brutally honest and, given the one he was stepping over, not for the faint of heart. The circular window on the roof above, the biggest source of light, created a spotlight on the center table that he knew to be intentional. And, combined with the humid air that clashed against the acrid backdrop, it all just added a sense of unease that even as an adult had him watching over his shoulder.

He did not, however, expect the room to feel so _restrictive_.

“You were smaller then,” she noted, reading his mind. Given the large number of artifacts hanging from the ceiling and shoved in shelves with dust as old as him, it wouldn’t be surprising if one of those things _did_ help her read minds. “Come, take a seat.”

“I’d like to know why you summoned me.” Percival said, far drier than he intended.

Not like it mattered. The old woman carried on around the room as if he had just told her manticore bones were on sale at the local market. “You need a wand, do you not?”

“I can find a wand at my leisure.”

“Can you?” She asked with a raised brow. “The letter I received indicated otherwise, but I’m sure you can find your way back.”

He didn’t need to ask about this mystery letter to have a pretty good idea of who wrote it, or what was in it.

“She worries,” Percival said with a defeated sigh. To be fair, he’d given her no shortage of reasons. “Madam Wolfe, I know you, and I know your shop. You’re not hurting for sales, not from curious first-years, and not from grown witches and wizards. It seems awfully inconvenient – and borderline insane – to summon me here to sell me a wand. Especially when I know you have no ownership permits for these birds.”

“Of course not – I do not own them. They come and go, with the frequency of the seasons and the fury of the wind,” she said, raising a finger in a lecture. “I may be an old woman, but I know your laws, Director.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because your Tina may be in great pain; pain that she will likely keep hidden away even from you. Now, if you want to help her I suggest you take a seat.”

The idea of Tina suffering alone was more than enough to draw compliance from him, even if he did silently glare at the woman first.

But it was easier said than done. She pulled a chair out of nowhere – likely it _was_ nowhere – while he tucked into a little chair meant more for a child than an old man. It groaned and struggled under his weight, doing little more than confirming his suspicion.

“I must start with an apology, Director,” Shikoba said, her eyes slowly floating down to his hands. “The curse that plagued you was, I believe, one of our own.”

“Impossible,” Percival spat. “I know about the old magic your tribe keeps; it’s hidden away, it’s in the hands of very few people.”

She sat back in her chair, looking out at the multitude of windows around them, at the Thunderbirds raging by all around them. When she finally drew her eyes back to him, he saw only sorrow. “Your kind is not the only ones with traitors.”

Merlin. Now Percival fell back against his miniscule chair, pulling out one of his gifted cigarette cases. He handed one to the old wandmaker, letting her light both of them as they sat in silence, ruminating over the smoke. If her theory was true, it meant that Grindelwald had been studying in America for even longer than he and Tina had estimated. Initial guesses had him entering the United States no earlier than October, but if what the old wandmaker stated had any kernel of truth to it, it was possible there was even more to be wrong about.

Obviously this traitor hadn’t been caught. She would’ve told him as much if he had been, so his and Tina’s job was not even close to done. Grindelwald may be in jail, but his followers would not rest. He owed his people better. He promised so that very morning.

“Tell me more about the curse.”

This question was one she’d been waiting for. She blew the smoke from her nostrils, as a majestic old dragon might do before nodding to his hands. “It’s older than any of our tribes. Older than this land. There are many stories as to how it came about, but one fact is certain – it was created with the intention to maim.”

“Because there are no wands,” Percival reasoned. “Without wands, the curse would keep you from practicing all magic. It wouldn’t just disable you, it would cut you off from everything.”

“A fate worse than death for many. Indeed, most would opt to take their own lives rather than live as a squib.”

“The others found a cure.”

“They did not intend to, but aye, they did, and that’s the cruelty of the curse. Those willing to undo it have to bring themselves to the same state when the curse was cast. As you can imagine, not many were willing to chance breaking both hands again.”

“But it’s not so simple,” Percival interrupted. “Otherwise the Healers would’ve pulled it out the first time.”

Or at least they should have tried, before healing him back to normal. If the curse was so easy to pull away, surely they would have found it. There was something else, and he suspected it wasn’t the no-maj balm that Tina pulled out.

When Shikoba began again, something was different in her tone. Gone was the playfulness from earlier. Hell, even the light in the little room dimmed, and not because a Thunderbird decided the roof was the perfect place to land. “There’s another missing piece. See, the makers of this curse never expected their victims to be capable of making a connection with someone. To them, these murderers and rapists, criminals of the worst kind were irredeemable. They were sure no one would ever fall in love. How could anyone ever love them?”

But they did. Him, a grizzled monster who couldn’t withstand Grindelwald, somehow rescued by the only woman to push aside his battered façade to reveal someone else entirely.

_No_ , Percival thought with a grunt. He wasn’t a monster. That title was reserved to very few, to the ones who betrayed him, who betrayed their own colleagues and friends. That wasn’t him. If he learned anything over the past few weeks it was that Tina always possessed good judgement, and if she chose him, well, who was he to argue?

“Her affections for you are not temporary, nor are they feeble. It’s the only reason she didn’t die pulling that curse from you.”

His heart dropped, as did his cigarette and even his cane.

“I do hate to give good people bad news,” she sighed, stomping off his cigarette while snuffing out her own. “The curse has been forbidden for centuries now, and not just because of what it does. Oh, Director, this magic has a terrible price to it and Miss Tina paid it.”

“I saw her in the papers,” he fought, not noticing he was halfway out of his chair and reaching for a wand he didn’t have. “She’s healthy. She’s working; she’s meeting foreign dignitaries halfway around the globe. _She’s fine_.”

“I saw _you_ in the papers a lot in this past week Director. I think the three of us can agree you were not fine,” Shikoba said, forcing him back down with a flick of her finger. “She will tell you, in her own time. Be patient with her as I know she’s been with you.”

_Old fool_ , Shikoba must’ve wanted to add. Or maybe that was just him. Percival dragged a hand down his face, not in exhaustion as was so often the case but in frustration. This should be over. Tina shouldn’t have to suffer because of him. If only… _if only she hadn’t pulled that curse from me_.

“And then what?” She suddenly asked and Percival quickly realized that his little thought had not been so quiet. “You would have died. The other curse would’ve killed you and your unhappy spirit would be haunting a hospital while the people who had the misfortune of caring for you go through life with a missing piece that you left. Is that what you want? Is that your version of an honorable death, Director?”

He knew damn well better than to answer that.

She was ready to hand him his ass, as his previous mentor did with a sharp tongue and an equally sharp wand.

And yet, somehow, a little bit of Tina just had to rub off on him.

“She doesn’t deserve this.”

The look Shikoba flashed him could’ve put Grindelwald to shame. Hell, could’ve put Gondulphus back into his frame in a heartbeat. “There was only one way for her to pull that curse off you, and I will say this only once – she had to be ready to sacrifice _everything_ to save you. Everything. Deserve it or not; that’s between her and the spirits but Miss Tina made a choice. Don’t you dare cheapen it.”

A beat.

Percival stared at his hands. Through them. Seeing Tina take them on the battlefield, trying to withhold her very real panic from him so that he wouldn’t be scared. She held them in London, a steady grip that kept him from collapsing from fatigue in front of a double decker bus. And, she pulled them on a chilly night, over the packed ice and freed him from a weight he didn’t even know he was carrying.

“Can I help her?” He asked, the words coming out small and solemn, more doomed than he intended.

“I suspect you can,” she responded, equally soft. “Some demons will always haunt you two. I saw them in her, as I see them in you. You can’t chase them away, but, you can be there when they strike.”

“What if I can’t be?” He blurted out, his mind fixated on the newspaper headlines and the idea of Tina waking from a ravaging nightmare somewhere in Europe, alone. For a brief moment he saw the old wandmaker begin to look more wolfish than woman and he quickly clarified. “What if she doesn’t want me there?”

There was nothing but confusion in the air now. Perhaps a little doubt at his mental sharpness considering she just told him everything Tina had done for him _why would she not want him?_ It was then that he realized, after already having this discussion with one old goat today, that he didn’t want to have it again, and certainly not with Shikoba Wolfe. Too many emotions for one day, just too much of everything.

Best to get his wand and get out.

“It’s irrelevant,” he sighed, waving his hand at her as dismissively as he could. “If she needs me,” he said, but then corrected again. “When she needs me, I will be there. Always.”

Even if it meant apparating to her in the dead of night.

Even if it meant breaking so many laws that he should rightly be in jail right now.

She might not pick him, but by Merlin he’d do right by her.

“Still living in your head, boy. Thirty years didn’t change you a bit.” Shikoba said with the grin of someone who knew a joke no one else did. He was about to respond when he saw the box in front of him. A very familiar box.

“You kept this?”

“It didn’t choose anyone else,” she said with a shrug. “You know how finicky wands can be.”

“I rejected it,” Percival said, hands over the clasp of the box but almost afraid to open it. “Wands don’t like to be rejected.”

“You were afraid to even open it. Perhaps it was my fault for pushing this onto you too soon, before you were ready. Or for allowing your obnoxious father to interrupt.”

That, he did. Before Percival could even open the box, his father whisked him away to Jonkers, to a professional who didn’t charge at children as a wolf.

Percival took a breath and undid the clasp. Years of dust and mildew rose to meet him but he did not turn away.

“This is Tina’s wand.” Percival said blankly. Two different woods, intertwined, black and white. He’d gotten a very good look at it in MACUSA. There was no denying it. This was hers.

“I made Miss Tina a very similar wand. Twelve inches, a healthy blend of Aspen and Ebony – not too much of either, mind you, but a perfect balance between light and dark. Where you differ, is your core.”

A different Thunderbird. That could make sense; they weren’t identical people so if the wood was the same then the core would have to be something else. But two woods in one wand? It was unheard of. There was no way this could be steady and yet, Tina took down Grindelwald with a single spell from it.

“Well? Grab it, give it a flick! I’m not getting any younger here.”

“I don’t understand,” Percival said, tracing the mingling wood, black and white, something other wandmakers said was impossible to do. “How do we have nearly the same wand?”

Shikoba turned in her seat, pointing to the outside corridor where he met her still as a wolf. There was something so calm and serene about the way she moved, like she wasn’t this elderly woman pushing on one hundred.

“There’s always two types – the runners and the fighters. That hasn’t changed in decades; at least until you came along.”

“I saw you for what you were,” Percival said quietly. “My grandfather quizzed me on the differences between a werewolf and an Animagus when I was ten. The human eyes – the irises – and the coloring on your fur gave you away.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you were a clever boy. That hasn’t changed. Neither has your arrogance.”

“I am not arrogant.”

“You are what people perceive you to be. Your little cleverness is why your wands are so alike. Your arrogance is why they’re not identical,” she said, and while he wanted to fight her on that point, he couldn’t deny Tina lacked the same boldness he was so often accused of showing. “Miss Tina thrived under a core from a newer Thunderbird, one who needed a kind hand to turn him around. The wand knew she would have the steady, but caring hand it needed. You, on the other hand, need its complement.”

She pointed out the window, to two Thunderbirds playing in the air together. They were taking turns chasing each other, rising into the sky before diving back down. They could almost be the little paper birds Tina was playing with, in London not so long ago.

“Your wand is made with her core. She’s a tough one; a fighter. She’s been isolated her whole life and I never thought she would find a mate. Too picky, I thought. Until that boy showed up. _Frank_. Terrible name for a Thunderbird I might add.” That last bit was said with a specific kind of disgust that put the old wandmaker solidly with the likes of their President.

“That we can both agree on.” Percival said with a small laugh. Frank. This sounded like Newt’s doing, from what he knew of the boy through his brother.

It probably was.

“He was damaged. Beaten, afraid, hesitant. She took to him like a niffler takes to gold and they’ve been inseparable ever since,” she explained, watching the birds play. There was no way to know what the poor bird went through, not with his scars healed, but he knew the real ones would never go away. “Do you understand, now?”

“We’re connected,” he said with a defeated sigh, looking back at his scarred hands. “Even through our wands.”

She didn’t nod or say a thing. She didn’t need to. There was a reason he was able to send Tina that Patronus when his hands shouldn’t have been able to produce magic. There was a reason she was able to pull that ugly curse out without killing herself in the process. There was more to this that she wasn’t telling him, and she wouldn’t. If he knew the old wandmaker well enough, she would leave them to figure this out themselves.

“So, will you take the wand this time? Or do I have to break Jonker’s legs to keep him from stealing my best customers?”

He grabbed the handle and the wand thrummed under his fingertips, hotter than fire, bolder than his old wand could ever be. It exuded a different kind of safety, one that embodied the aura of his lover and sent a shiver down his spine. It was only when he released it that he realized his breath had been paralyzed and the hairs over his arm were standing on end.

“I would hope you’d keep your toe in line, Madam Wolfe, considering the walking infraction your shop has become,” he joked, looking to the endless shelves as they both stood. She scoffed in protest, but he held his hand up. “This wand, well, both of them must’ve taken a lot of skill to craft. I believe this should cover it.”

She began to protest but he was faster. He pulled out his wallet, a seemingly endless case with every Dragot he’d squirreled away and dropped a handful onto the table. Enough to buy new wands for the entire Auror team, but the payment wasn’t just for the wands. Shikoba Wolfe saved Tina’s life, and may have saved his own. There was no price he could pay for that, but this was a start.

Pretending she wasn’t using a remodeled safehouse as an office was another.

“Take care out here, Madam Wolfe,” he said, looking out through the multitude of windows. “And if you ever find your traitor, you know where to find me. I’d like a word with them.”

Perhaps more than a word.

“Oh you don’t need to worry about me, Director. Now go take care of your woman!”

If only it were so easy. Percival wielded his wand, a perfect picture of his destroyed library in mind. It was only when he fired the spell to get him home that he realized that long-distance apparition may not be the best test for a new wand. By the time he blinked, the cozy, midwestern cabin had faded from him, instead throwing him back into his living room – and onto the priceless French table his great-uncle had brought to America. The table cracked with his weight, ripping in half and tossing him onto the carpet with a groan.

Percival rolled to his stomach, ready for his non-existent lunch to come out but received nothing but a strangled cough. Fuck. Not bad. He would feel that in the morning, but as far as he knew, all pieces of him were still there, and hell, he could stand at least.

“You really should try answering your door every once in a while. Or at least hire a house-elf to do it.”

Oh he knew this voice. Phina was standing at the edge of the corridor, and, as usual, came quiet as a mouse.

“If it goes unanswered, it wasn’t meant to be opened,” Percival snapped, much to his superior’s surprise. “Besides, I’ve no need for one. You, on the other hand.”

“Need to re-train my right-hand man. Where the hell were you?”

"Sitting here while choosing not to answer my damn door. Why are _you_ here?"

Something crashed a few rooms down, followed by a stampede of Aurors running to whatever their compatriot surely destroyed. Percival glared at his boss, who showed no concern at all for the additional labor she accidentally brought.

Or not accidentally. With Phina, he was never sure.

“You know this house can’t be repaired with magic,” Percival said, pinching the bridge of his nose to avoid shooing his team away with a racing broom. “Why bring them?”

“Oh I didn’t bring them,” Phina said with a small laugh. “They were loitering about the office, somber and pathetic without their boss until the ringleader-”

“-Smith-”

“-Decided they needed to set up new wards for this house and to rescue you. From yourself, I would think.”

Both looked to the unopened bottle of Ogden’s sitting on the dining room table, one with more suspicion than the other.

“I don’t need rescue. I don’t need visitors and I certainly don’t need anyone trying to repair my house. If there’s one thing I need right now it is peace and quiet; in spades preferably.”

_And her_ , his mind completed with a sad ping to his chest. He quickly pulled the thought of out of his mind, before Phina could see just where his thoughts had wandered to.

“You were alone the night he took you,” she said. Percival felt the rage build at the memory, felt it turn his knuckles white against his cane but his old friend continued. “As was I. We need allies, Val, and if the coming years are even a shred of what’s been prophesized, we’ll need them more than ever.”

“So what do you suggest?” Percival said in a mocking tone that turned up the corner of his lip. “Should we all live together, then? Eat, sleep, _bathe_ in each other’s company?”

“For your sake I hope not,” she scoffed, walking over to the centuries old wardrobe and pulling out an equally ancient bottle of scotch. “You don’t need all of them here, all the time. But, one person can make a difference.”

Ah, fuck. Of course she had to bring it up, just in time for something else to collapse a few rooms down and cause every fucking relative in a portrait to yell four centuries worth of expletives to the ambitious Aurors. He wanted to be angry. Hell, fury had been a natural response in any topics relating to Grindelwald, it shouldn’t be surprising that there were still vestiges of it relating to anything threatening to ruin the admittedly feeble structure of his life. And yet, when Phina sat and offered him a glass, he didn’t take it. He couldn’t.

Instead, she poured herself a glass and grimaced at the taste.

“It’s never been like this before,” he sighed. Merlin, they won; he shouldn’t sound so defeated. Phina took a quick sip, preparing to ask him what the hell he was talking about, but she didn’t need to. “Grindelwald and his kind are raising an army. Infiltrating our government. The entire country scared shitless over what all of this means.”

“He’s captured and our people are safe. Your little speech this morning made the front page of every major newspaper and the response is overwhelmingly positive.”

“Until they strike again. You know they will.”

They lost their ringleader, but people like Grindelwald weren’t common criminals. They weren’t vault breakers who folded at the mere sight of an Auror. They weren’t lunatics, as much as he wanted to believe. Grindelwald was in jail but there were surely others in his crew ready to pick up the mantle and continue the crusade. Phina knew this. She could blow smoke his way all afternoon, but it didn’t change a damn thing.

“I need her here,” he continued softly. “This isn’t just about my emotional wellbeing or whatever the hell else they’re calling it, this is about all of us. She’s a fantastic, well-trained Auror that we can trust, and, fuck, the public loves her. I can’t say the same about us.”

“I know what she did, Val, trust me. After her problems with the no-maj woman I swore she would never work with me again and I can say now that I’ve never been so wrong. But, you know it can’t work.”

“Phina, I ask you this not as a coworker, but as a friend. Please-”

“You know this isn’t my choice to make,” she said slowly but her compassion did nothing to ameliorate his slowly breaking heart. “We have these procedures in place for a reason. No matter what the papers may be saying about me, I cannot just, throw everything into the air.”

“But there must be _something_ ; some way that she can stay.”

He tried to look to her with some hope but she turned away from him the same way she did the first time he asked for Tina to be put back on the team. And, just like that stuffy summer day, he felt his world be torn from him with the simple gesture. He could lie to himself all he could, but he wanted Tina by his side, protecting MACUSA. _Protecting him_ , he thought grimly. Hell, he just wanted the chance to have a real partner, in work and in life, and he was just so close.

“She’d have to work away from your department, Val, and you wouldn’t ask that of her, would you? She’s meant for this job.”

“No, never,” he said quickly. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of Tina being forced into something like the Wand Permit Office. “I’d rather have her in Russia, happy as an Auror, than miserable here with a ring on her hand.”

Phina turned back, eyeing him with what he knew to be suspicion. He’d been a victim of that stare enough to know it creeping up on him. “That might change things, you know.”

“What?”

“Don’t be daft, Val,” she scoffed, pushing her half-empty glass into his hands. “Marriage changes everything. It’s the exception to the rule. Married couples are given a lot more leeway; more stability and all. Less of a chance of you two just being a little fling for your pleasure and her career.”

“ _You’re kidding_ ,” he almost laughed at the idea. “We’ve been together for a few weeks. You can’t possibly think that marriage of all things is a feasible solution.”

“You asked me for a solution, Val, never for an easy one,” she said with a new air of hope. “Besides, a ring wouldn’t look terrible on you. Would certainly keep the women off your heels.”

“Or attract more.”

This was not feasible. It wasn’t. His parents courted for years before his father was ready to propose. ‘ _Choosing your mother was the most important decision of my life’_ , he had said, often with an air of bravado and a glass of Ogden’s in hand. That’s right after he went back into his study, where he would shut himself from the world and the woman patiently waiting on her husband to go to bed together. Hypocrisy was truly the greatest trait passed down the Graves family tree – and he was not narcissistic enough to believe he emerged unscathed.

In fact, he was acting on it outright once again. He wasn’t shutting her out of his life while espousing his love of family and married life; he wasn’t that obtuse. But, he was doing something worse, in a way. After everything they’d been through, the last – and only – time he told her he loved her was sitting on her couch in the middle of the night in the middle of a conversation about non-disclosure. How romantic. No wonder she was open to another job offer across the ocean.

Phina took a moment to attempt to ‘repair’ part of the missing roof with a flick of her wand, sending a heavy brick into place before turning to the window, still showing a healthy amount of snow falling there and nowhere else. When she looked to him, she didn’t need to comment on it.

“It would, I think, solve all of your problems. Marriage would show your commitment. The papers already have everyone cheering for you two – now that is a feat I never thought possible. If someone tried to remove either of you, the outcry would be horrendous.”

“And since when has public opinion suddenly decided the rules and procedures inside MACUSA?”

“When hasn’t it? I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of what happened the last time we changed the Hex Indicator. Or what hasn’t happened since rumors leaked that a certain Director of Magical Security changed it again.”

“How-”

She raised her hand and he shut up where he stood. “This was on Sunday. Turns out that altering government property gets a pass when you’re doing it to save a loved one from the homicidal maniac this country hates. Imagine that.”

His Aurors. When Grindelwald pulled that memory out of him in the interrogation room he did it with the intent to incriminate him, to embarrass him in front of his best men and women. Grindelwald was so damn cocky that his plan was a raging success that he underestimated the bullshit detector that Percival had trained into the eyes and ears of every Auror in that room. The only reason this leaked out at all was because every interrogation had to have a written copy, which, no doubt, made its way to the media at some point in the debacle. Whatever the journalists heard wasn’t through merely their own bias, but through that of his Aurors.

He truly owed every single one of them a damn good Christmas present. At this rate he would never leave the department store.

“Think about it Val,” Phina suddenly said in a little sing-song voice from somewhere across the hall. She’d left without him even fucking noticing. “And whatever you do, it better not be snowing in my office on Monday.”

She called to the Aurors, still fruitlessly trying to repair his home and at last they stopped. The front door shut, this time without any snow falling on his head.

He was alone again.

The _New York Ghost_ stared up at him from the worn desk, next to the chair that had once been a priceless footstool. He really should transfigure it back sometime.

If he did it; if he _proposed_ , then it could fix their problems. They could both stay in New York, together, at work. All he had to do was ask. That was it. One little question.

Well, and a ring. So, two little things.

Percival took a deep breath, and, another, but his speeding heart could not stop kicking at his chest as the idea materialized in front of him. Even his cane didn’t seem sturdy enough to hold him in that spot anymore. Could he do this? Truly?

With a swallow, Percival took another look at the transfigured chair and cursed the entire Piquery family.

\--

It was half past midnight.

Nearly a whole day back in the world and nothing to show for it but a depressing bundle of newspapers strewn across his desk and a broken, unrepaired ancestral home. Mostly unrepaired, anyhow.

Percival sighed, throwing the evening edition of the _New York Ghost_ into the pile. Tina was at the cover, again, with another world leader by her side along with more updates on her job offer. Now a slew of nosy reporters were weighing in on the well-deserved offers, betting on whether the Ministry’s prestige would be enough to beat the German’s pay.

As if they knew her enough to know what she gave a damn about.

Fuck. Deep breath.

“What _do_ you want, Tina?” Percival muttered to the empty footstool turned chair beside him.

Silence.

Wonderful. Now he wasn’t just a cripple, but a crazy one to boot. Wonderful.

He sighed again, more than he had any other night and reached for another cigarette somewhere underneath the newspapers. He knew what he wanted. He could sit there, smoking and drinking himself to a caffeine induced death all night but he couldn’t deny it anymore. Tina wasn’t just his lover, she was his partner. Someone who could read his mind just from a pointed glare, who had a wand by his side. For the first time in years he had exactly what he wanted; what he needed.

And he was about to let it slip right through his fingers.

_Fuck._

Percival kicked his chair back, yanking his cane out from beside the desk; a habit that he wasn’t used to and his knee thanked him for remembering. He needed to do something; anything other than sit there and think, but what? Pacing back and forth from room to room, trying to muster whatever magic he could to repair the hole in the living room floor wouldn’t solve his problems, just push them into the next hour. He should be resting. At this time, Tina was probably awake and getting ready to accept one of these offers and there was nothing he could do.

He would not send her a Patronus.

He would not ‘borrow’ Phina’s mirror to call on her.

And he would certainly not rope one of his Aurors into letting him use the vanishing cabinet for a quick trip to Europe.

Hm.

A beat.

It wasn’t the worst idea. Maybe if he could talk to her, face to face, they could figure something out together. He wouldn’t necessarily try to get her to stay – that was still ridiculous – but he could see what the hell it was that she valued.

But if Tina took it the wrong way, there would be hell to pay. He promised her he’d stay home, that he’d rest and fuck, she was so damn worried about him. She was right to, after all, he came the closest to death he ever had in his entire career that day and it’s not like his magic was particularly potent. If something went wrong, even for a minute, he wouldn’t be able to properly defend himself and then she just might murder him out of spite.

And if he didn’t go? Tina would likely make a decision on her own. As she could. As she should.

A decision that she might make out of necessity to save her career; one she wouldn’t necessarily need to make.

Ah, fuck.

Percival grabbed the winter coat hanging by the front door and slid it on so roughly it should have ripped. He was actually going to do this. She was going to kill him, and he was still going to do this. It was insanity but he had to try, he had-

A sudden pop emerged from the library, two doors down from where he stood.

Someone apparated to his house.

He had wards – he knew he put them back that same morning, along with the Aurors and-

The Aurors. Someone had betrayed him again and were coming to finish the job.

This time there wouldn’t be help. He was alone.

The thought had never bothered him before, but suddenly the idea of being taken down, alone and weak in his own home sent a chill down his spine that had him drawing his wand with fear he wasn’t used to; something that only came after Grindelwald’s stay. Grindelwald. The idea that this assailant could be him, who somehow escaped Tina and came to finish the job…

Percival took a deep breath and squeezed his wand.

To his surprise, the wand pulsed under his fingers, not in alert, or fear, but, happiness. Yes, his wand was _happy_.

He walked in silence, careful not to step on the particularly noisy boards, with a spell at the ready. His assailant hadn’t made a move, but he heard paper ruffling and it angered him more than it should. An intruder, in his home, in his _private_ library, destroying his things! Percival turned the corner, ready to blast the idiot into oblivion when he realized, he recognized that jacket.

An Auror’s jacket. Still new, still unsoiled.

His wand pulsed again, bringing a warm and cheerful sprite into his blood and he didn’t need the Auror to turn for him to know who it was.

“Out of the fifty rooms in this house you choose to apparate into my private library.” Percival said, surprised by how breathless he sounded in her presence, like the smitten lover he liked to pretend not to be.

Tina turned, wielding the _New York Ghost_ Evening edition in front of her like a wand. Gods, she was fine. There may have been bags under her eye, slightly masked by make-up, but no other sign of Grindelwald’s torture. She adjusted her jacket, pushing at one of the sleeves but no matter what she did, he knew what was underneath the bandages that pushed past her wrist and around her hand.

But that wasn’t all. The shirt she was wearing underneath, all loose and _polka dotted_ of all things, stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of her uniform. Was… was that a part of her pajamas?

At that moment Percival was sure that the skip in his heart and the knot in his gut did not come from his new wand.

“You're predictable,” she said, folding the paper before carefully putting it back to the pile, which promptly fell apart and sent all the papers flying everywhere between them. A little red crept up to Tina’s cheeks and her embarrassed chuckle did nothing to calm his pulse. “Judging by the smoking cigarette and all of today’s papers from the entire country, I wasn’t wrong.”

She started to move to him but stopped. She was hesitating, and while he wanted it to be because of his cane, something told him it wasn’t. Because Tina wasn’t looking at his cane. She wasn’t looking at him at all.

Ah Merlin, her arm. She wasn’t approaching because she thought he was upset, because his eyes lingered at her bandages too long, twisting his face into disgust at the man responsible for them. But never at her.

Without a second thought he crossed the space between them and locked her in his arms so that nearly both fell to the floor and he wouldn’t have cared if it did because she was there; she was _here_. His cane fell with a clatter, freeing both arms to take her in because _fuck_ he couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe she was there, healthy and alive, that she was his, that it was all over. After Grindelwald, after a living hell, he tucked into her neck and hair and _breathed_ that fruity perfume, the one that had pulled him out of the darkness, that had pulled him out of his head and settled him, reminded him of who he was.

This time, he let himself feel everything. On Monday morning he’d have to walk into MACUSA with a mask, but at this moment, there was no need for it. No need to use it with her – ever. He didn’t even notice his relief had translated to a bludger in his throat until it stopped any words dead.

But he couldn’t help it. It was over – all of it. The end goal they had both aspired to every second of every day for the past week, that he thought was lost when her hand slipped away from him at that abandoned house. And she was _here_ , her heart pounding away against his chest, the hand that healed him now curled around his neck and through the loose strands of hair he once cared about keeping straight. This wasn’t merely a surrender to his emotions – it was a surrender to _her_.

He didn’t realize she was too was overwhelmed by it all until her uneven breaths warmed the shell of his ears. Both drowned in relief and more emotions than their bodies were capable of handling, sending it all cascading down. Queenie was right. They did deserve each other.

“Not a moment passed, since I opened my eyes,” he started, lips pressed against her ear. “That I haven’t thought of you. Not one second.”

A mix of a sob and a chuckle erupted from her as her hand made quick work of the hair he worked so hard to groom for her, tangling it in her fingers but he didn’t care. “Every day, on that trip, I steeled myself for an owl from the President. News that I had just been a minute too late, that you succumbed, that it was over,” she muttered, her sniffing obscuring the words and he held her just a little tighter. “And then, when you called me? I couldn't sleep that night.”

If only she knew how terrified he’d been that the same news would reach him. That somehow Grindelwald or one of his cronies had escaped and taken her from him, that someone in England had interfered. Flashbacks of what happened with Lopez haunted his nightmares nearly every day.

But, for once, it didn’t happen. For once his nightmares were just that – fiction.

There was just a hint of lips against his ear again and Percival shivered, the little act of affection still taking him by surprise. “We did it.” She whispered against him.

“We did. You did.”

Percival pulled back, just a little, just enough, hands snaking around her shoulders before settling in both of her tear-stained cheeks. Merlin, she was beautiful. Even a frazzled mess, no doubt trying to rush home just to see him, she had that sparkle of life radiating through her, from the red lips she tentatively chewed on to the little wrinkles quickly forming around her eyes with her smile.

If it wasn’t for his knee, he would’ve stayed there all night. The blasted thing was already causing him pain and he was ready to curse his misfortune when Tina noticed his swaying and kindly moved them both to the nearby living room, where, thanks to the gaping hole in the ceiling they had no choice but to curl up on the couch in front of the fire. Unlike their first time on that old thing, Tina quickly settled onto him and he had no trouble pulling her in.

What a sight. Perhaps the knee situation wasn’t so bad after all.

He wanted to truly call this a night. The only way for it to be more perfect would be for it to move to his room where they could stay in peace for a few hours. Not for the sex – though every time she breathed against his neck his mind certainly wandered – but for the intimacy. He wished it was that simple. There was a reason Tina had showed up half-dressed, with stunning red lipstick but no mascara, and it wasn’t because she ran out.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Percival said, the voice of his old self coming through from a forgotten place. “I believe the President put you on assignment until the New Year.”

While this was all new to them, he knew Tina, and he knew the guilt hidden in how she suddenly stopped playing with the button of his coat, in how she tore her eyes away from him. It felt like an eternity before she said a thing.

“They told me you couldn’t walk.” She said, nodding to the fallen cane, discarded somewhere nearby.

Percival grimaced, shifting his weight on that old couch best he could. “It’s nothing. The cane helps, but, I’ll be alright.”

“Well I’m glad,” Tina said with a sigh of relief that was not reflected in her eyes. Hell, even her shoulders were still stiff. She must’ve noticed the incongruency of it all because she quickly corrected herself. “I know you’re still recovering, but, I’m glad it’s going to be fine.”

Silence fell between them again. As did the stiffness. They both knew the reality that would be with each minute that passed, and she must’ve been searching for a way to tell him that she was going to leave. Not just for a minute, or a day, but for good.

He knew this but didn’t dare speak of it. Not yet. Not until his hand was forced.

“There’s a hole in the ceiling,” Tina suddenly noted as a little bit of snow fell through and onto the coffee table. “Is the rest of the house still…?”

“Broken?” he clarified, and she gave him a quick nod. “Yes, unfortunately, this whole place was built with magic. Very complex magic. Phina and the Aurors tried to help me repair it earlier, but, it’s not so easy.”

“I could help,” she said, more of a command than a suggestion. “After the assignment is done, of course.”

Percival couldn’t help but smile. At her heart of gold, at how terrible she was at lying to him. “I’m not entirely sure I want it fixed. I think, some things are best left in the past.”

“Then where will you go?”

He shrugged, the simple action sending an ache through his shoulders that reminded him he wasn’t completely healed. Not even close. “The bedroom’s still whole, for now. Figured I would stay here a day or two before scouting out a new place.”

Tina’s eyes lit up in instant recognition of his little suggestion. “An apartment in the city.”

“Something I could call my own,” he said, remembering their little conversation that first day back; the same one Tina clearly recalled as well. “It’s time.”

Out of all people, Tina would understand. She’d shared her apartment with her sister for years, carving out half a room as her own personal space – and nothing more. She still deserved so much more and he wanted to give her the world. But was it what she wanted?

She fell silent again, reminding him just how little he knew of what was going on in her head. Probably still trying to think of a way to tell him she would be leaving for Paris permanently before dawn even struck.

If there was ever a time, it was now.

Percival swallowed away the lump in his throat. “I know about the job offers,” he said softly, trying not to let hurt show. “They’re all well-deserved. It’s about time the others recognized in you what I’d known all along.”

“Oh Percival I-”

“No, it’s alright,” he interrupted with a sigh. It was not alright. “It’s your business and yours alone. But, well,” he said with a small stutter, overwhelmed by the blood rushing to his head and pounding against his skull hard enough for the world to blank, just for a moment. “Before your timely appearance in what’s left of my house, I was about to go see you. I needed to see you,” he said, taking another deep breath. “Tina, I want to ask you to stay. Here, in New York, in MACUSA. And, with me.”

There, it was out. Fuck, that was far, _far_ harder than any of the scraps he’d been in since he was a kid. At least losing a fight just meant getting back up, but, losing this would mean something. There was a reason he avoided this kind of emotional drama for so many years, and the fact that Tina was looking at him like he just turned into a banshee was one of them. Was she surprised at his question? Or surprised that he could think he ever stood a chance of competing with the lovely offers she had surely received?

Tina wasn’t responding and each second that passed tore at him just a little more.

He should say something. He should mention the little black box hiding in his pocket, with a ring he spent nearly all afternoon remaking to his taste. As with Graves tradition, it had been his mother’s, but with a few key modifications it would fit her beautifully; he was certain. He made it just for this occasion, and she was here, and she was going to leave and he just couldn’t bring himself to say those damn words.

“You have a good soul, Perce,” Tina said and he could feel the happiness in her voice which thoroughly confused him. “I hope that one of these days you’ll reward yourself for it.”

“I don’t understand.” He deadpanned, and he really didn’t.

His lover sat up, pulling something out of the depths of her purse until her entire arm disappeared into it. Certainly an illegal charm, considering he hadn’t seen that approval ever come across his desk but he knew this was not the time to bring it up.

“There’s a big chair in your library; one that wasn’t transfigured from another piece of furniture but judging by how new it looks compared to how old it must be-”

“-17th century, English-”

“-You never use it. Or the piano that hasn’t had a single piece repaired. Or even your own backyard.”

“If the amount of casework on my desk ever ceased to topple over I’m sure I would have more time for artistic pursuits.”

Tina finally pulled a sum of colorful folders, nearly ripping her purse apart in the process, and shook her head at him in disapproval. “I could clear your desk of work right now and you’d find more. Don’t you see?”

No, he clearly didn’t. Tina dropped the heavy folders onto his lap and now he was forced to sit up.

The document at the top, beige with a ‘fleur de lis’ on the cover, was from the French government. Well, that made sense – she absolutely adored France. If she’d go anywhere it would be there. They wanted her for a Senior level position, to train their team and be third in command to their own Director of Magical Security. And, it had her signature with a firm rejection.

_She rejected them?_

Now Percival was alert. The other, with tough, orange paper from the Dutch. They too wanted her as an Auror but their salary offer nearly rivaled his own. Percival scrolled to the bottom quickly, finding another signed rejection and he tossed the paper aside.

The last document came in a familiar, rough, paper; the same one used to inform all of MACUSA about his supposed hearing that thankfully never materialized. The Phoenix at the top flapped its wing in defiance and when he began reading it he lost his breath.

It was the only paper that didn’t have her signature on it.

_We hereby extend this offer to you, Porpentina Esther Goldstein, as Chief of the Stealth Wizards Attack Taskforce, effective Monday, January 2, 1927. Please be mindful that this position requires a person of strong moral aptitude, with a penchant for clandestine work that aims to save the lives of wizards and witches around the world._

That department didn’t exist.

They made up a position and an entire fucking department for Tina to work.

_If you are unable to respond due to death, dismemberment, or dementia please consider this offer rescinded. We do hope you’ll join us at the Magical Congress of the United States of America._

_My sincerest welcome and thanks,_

_Seraphina Picquery_

She knew. Hell, more than that, Phina concocted all of this under his nose without making him wise to any of it. He was conjuring up blizzards inside of his house this whole time and _she knew_.

Which meant she knew that he never needed to marry Tina.

She pushed it because she knew it would tame him. A ring in his hand would certainly keep him off the street and out of his tiny office, with less time to get himself kidnapped or shot through a wall with a messy _Stupefy_. That damn woman. Nearly thirty years of friendship and yet some things never changed.

“We weren’t supposed to tell you,” Tina said and he realized he must’ve looked as shaken as he felt. “She knew that if we stood any chance of making it, we needed to create sympathy. So, she let the New York Ghost publish anything it wanted about me saving you, about our ‘forbidden relationship’. And, she sent me there, to get these job offers. Not for me to take them, but, for people to cheer for us, for them to hope that I picked you over everyone else.”

“And for this offer to make sense,” Percival said, finishing her sentence. “If you’re competitive, she can offer you this sort of job without anyone becoming suspicious or suspecting nepotism.”

“Correct. She’s simply doing what’s best for her country and keeping the ‘Grindelwald killer’ on her payroll is just that.”

It was brilliant. It was brilliant and it allowed a loophole for Tina to keep working in MACUSA. He didn’t know the specifics of this job but he was certain that it didn’t involve a direct line of command with him. Tina would be free to have her own team, to go off on her own missions. What was once deemed impossible had somehow been put in a single line right in his hands.

“You’re sure this is what _you_ want?” Percival asked, the question slipping out before his heart had a chance to slap him in the face for it. “Because if any of those other offers appeal to you, Tina, I swear that I will call up their Presidents myself and-”

“What do _you_ want?” Tina suddenly asked. “Forget the job, forget the offers. For a moment, there isn’t any work on your desk.”

Percival knew the answer before she even finished speaking. In some ways, he always knew. Sometimes, the only reason his desk had any work in it was because he dropped the files there himself, not because he wanted to but because he _had_ to.

Not anymore.

“Goldstein? I need to speak to you.” The familiar voice suddenly erupted from the desk where Tina had carelessly thrown her purse.

He could almost laugh at the timing. If it wasn’t Phina, it was Queenie, or Bob, or whoever else just needed to interrupt any semblance of a romantic moment. He was surprised none of the portraits had piped up yet.

“You do need to answer that.” Percival said quietly, seemingly unable to stop his voice of reason from interrupting everything.

His lover stood, conjuring up a beautiful morning in Geneva out of his window, complete with snowy alps and a sun just peeking through the clouds.

It was good.

It also wouldn’t work.

Tina pulled the mirror out and took a deep breath. “Good morning, Madam President,” she said, fixing up her hair and straightening her jacket to try to complete her little illusion. She still had her pajama shirt on but he was not about to correct her. “The Germans are almost on board. They’ll be joining us in January but it’s tricky; they don’t trust Azkaban and they want a concession from the Ministry.”

The other end of the line was silent. Tina briefly glimpsed up at him in confusion, all but confirming the ruse she was trying so hard to hide.

“Are you inside the Graves house?”

Percival could not help the smirk plastered across his face but Tina was downright horrified. Her reaction only aided in causing him to chuckle, giving both of them up quite easily.

“I apologize, but I promise that I only intended to come for a moment-”

“A moment? I’m looking at the morning copy of the Geneva Gazette and there’s a wonderful picture of you sneaking out of your hotel at dawn _under a cloak_ ,” she said in the same reprimanding tone he’d come to loathe. Tina was frozen in fear. There was a pause. “Well done, Goldstein, and good night. Good night to you too, Val.”

Percival bid her good night but Tina was still shaking her head. “She knew, didn’t she? Even before the paper.”

“Your illusion was too sunny. Switzerland is never that bright in the middle of winter, though it was a show of good wandwork,” Percival noted, which only made Tina look at her illusion with pity reserved for a dying animal. “Though frankly, I think she knows us both better than we imagine. Especially your propensity to follow the rules.”

_And mine_ , his mind reminded him. A week of altered Hex Indicators, underground missions with no approvals or oversight, and an affair that in any other world would never have been allowed. A part of him wanted to say that it was just a result of circumstances; of being stuck in a world where he had nothing to lose and no one to trust. If Auror training taught him anything, it was that adaptability was key. The question was, how much of that stayed with him?

“I should go,” Tina sighed, stuffing the folders back in her bag but otherwise making no move to leave. “I’m supposed to meet with Winston in an hour. They’ve bred these Lethifolds that supposedly can distinguish between their Aurors and, well, their victims and they want me to see them. I think It’s a terrible idea, for the record.”

“Winston?”

That sounded far more alert and awake than anything else he’d said, and he wasn’t the only one to notice. Tina stopped re-organizing her purse and shot him an amused glare. “I’ve just told you that I’m going to be facing Lethifolds and _that’s_ what you focus on?”

“After the horrors we experienced at the hands of supposedly trusted Aurors, it’s not an unreasonable thing to focus on.” Percival reasoned, finding his feet and taking a cautious step towards her. Without his cane.

His little show of weakness worked - almost. One limp later and Tina was quickly holding him back up with a scold. It did more to stabilize him on his bad knee than she would know but instead of forgetting about her purse and the damn mission, she again said the three little words he dreaded more than anything. “I should go.”

“Wait, Tina.” He said quietly. She waited for him to finish but all thought had been sapped out of him and he didn’t even know what to say.

The minute she opened that door, this moment, slow and precious, would be over. She’d go back to doing her job and he would be on his way to bed. It was the way it was supposed to go; he was supposed to be resting and she was supposed to be working. She wasn’t just an Auror; just an Assistant Director anymore and he had to respect that.

But he couldn’t let go of her.

“Tina,” he said again, her name a firm prayer on his lips. He wasn’t sure what he was asking for but she too didn’t let go. Damn it all, this day was going to sap him worse than a vampire. “The lake is beautiful tonight. Not a cloud in the sky; just the moon reflecting off the ice. Enough of it to light the whole place, like day. It would be a shame if you missed it.”

It wasn’t his most convincing pitch but damn if she wasn’t entertained by his ramblings. To think that once upon a time it was something he was admiring in her. Now she hummed, toying with the collar of his coat that she had so crudely twisted a few moments earlier. “Sounds beautiful. And, quite cold, especially for a certain Director who should be in bed.”

“I’ll have your jacket,” he reasoned, tugging at the leather, pulling her into his space without objection. He found his hand climbing, resting against her cheek and the comfortable warmth it provided and she made no attempt to hide her enjoyment, instead leaning into his touch as much as he leaned on her. “I can make some hot cocoa. Perhaps some coffee; to keep us warm of course.”

He wasn’t even sure he had either of those left. Somehow, from the little twitch in her eyebrow, he had a feeling she knew as much. After all, she had raided his pantry to feed him more than once.

"You asked me earlier what I wanted," he said, brushing the hair from her cheeks, letting his thumb carelessly brush her lower lip. "I want you to stay. Tonight. Tomorrow."

Deep down he also wanted a very overdue kiss. She spent the better part of their past hour practically on top of him, stroking his unkempt beard and playing with the buttons of his waistcoat and he couldn't help but ache for just a little more contact, no matter how brief.

“I suppose I can stay for a cup of coffee,” she muttered. “Or two.”

“Yes,” he said, an answer to the unspoken question in her eyes. “Perhaps three.”

“Don’t push your luck, Mr. Graves.” Tina said with a quick, fleeting kiss that was over before it started, meant to do nothing more than tease him into compliance. She slipped past him, summoning his cane from below the coffee table and throwing it to him with the knowing smirk that he’d seen before; that sent a chill through his spine and froze him where he stood. The same mysterious look as she shot him at the lake, when she goaded him on and started a chase that could only end one way.

_What do you want?_ She asked again with only a look.

Percival smiled, and followed her to his room.


End file.
